


Lay Me Down

by shinigami714



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Durin Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Phobias, Romance, Self-Doubt, Soul Bond, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-06 15:45:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 41,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3139811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinigami714/pseuds/shinigami714
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When he woke in the night it was gasping for air, with a suffocating feeling in his lungs.  His chest constricted and he choked on dust that wasn’t there, feeling a pain long gone."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I know what you’re thinking. Shinigami714, what the heck are you doing starting another story, when you’ve already got 2 incomplete stories on the go? Well, all I can say…is that when the muse hits, I have to go with the flow, otherwise I end up doing diddly. This story is at least fully planned from start to finish, and will be a maximum of three parts, so shouldn’t take up too much of my time. And yes, I will update my other stories as well! Promise! My head right now is a jumbled mess of story ideas for the Hobbit, and I just want to write them all. So I can only hope people will continue reading Hobbit fanfiction for a long time to come. The next part, which is much longer than this intro bit should be up later tonight!

When he woke in the night it was gasping for air, with a suffocating feeling in his lungs. His chest constricted and he choked on dust that wasn’t there, feeling a pain long gone. It happened during the day as well, whenever the great mines kicked to life. Each and every time he heard that low thrumming sound that resonated from deep within the caverns below it vibrated through his entire being. The loud clangs that reverberated along with it struck down through his bones with the force of Mahal’s hammer, and each and every sound served as a reminder of what he feared most.

There were many things of course, which he feared. Not the least of all was the idea of being forgotten by his kin. He feared disappointing those he loved, and failing to do as he was bid. He feared darkness to some extent, and light to another. For darkness meant mystery, and unforeseen possibilities. While light, light was exposure.   And it presented all of his flaws, of which there were many, to anyone who gazed in his direction.

But the thing that ate at his very soul, the thing that haunted his dreams, and that itched at his mind when he heard the familiar distant sounds, was the fear of being left alone. Left to wait as his heart slowed to a terrifying halt without another beating along beside it.


	2. Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear what everyone thinks so far!

Kíli stood awkwardly at the front door of their tiny home as he watched his mother hurry about making sure absolutely everything was in order. She checked over the pantry stores, and then flittered about various rooms in the small cabin, straightening bedding and stacking books. She searched through her bags, and patted down her jackets, buckled up snaps and retied holsters. Her boots were tied twice, her bedroll neatly folded across her back, and then she turned with a final sigh, facing her two sons resolutely. It was clear she was nervous leaving them for even the length of her short journey, but it was her turn to join the trading caravan, and besides, her boys were in capable hands.

“You be good for your uncle, all right Kíli?” Dís ordered, and the tiny brunet bit his lip and nodded slowly. His eyes were downcast and he clutched his overlong tunic tight between his tiny fingers. Dís patted his cheek fondly before turning towards her other son who was watching from afar.

“Come here you rat,” Dís said with a grin, and Fíli smirked playfully before trotting over to her side. He was definitely the more independent of the two. While Kíli always seemed intent to cling to her skirts or his brother’s arm, Fíli was more often than not perfectly happy with no more than a book in his hands.

“Watch out for your brother all right?” Dís spoke to the blond as she clutched the back of his head. Fíli’s eyes widened and he nodded decisively, glancing quickly towards the brunet.

“I will,” Fíli promised with a determined expression, and Dís studied them both with moistening eyes.

“Oh, I’m going to miss you both so very much,” she admitted, before tugging her boys tight to her chest. Fíli laughed and hugged her back, while Kíli pressed his nose against her shirt. She pulled away with a great deal of difficulty, patting both her sons gently atop their heads before standing and straitening her belts.

“That’s my lads, I’ll be gone but a few weeks, and Thorin will take good care of you,” she reassured them, her hands on her hips.

“I love you both, stay safe my little ones. I expect to hear all about your adventures when I return,” she directed a brilliant smile at the two children, and finally turned towards her brother. Thorin was standing still several feet away, his body leaning against the wall nearest to the door. He was watching her with his usual stoic expression, hiding his anxiousness beneath a carefully crafted mask. He worried for his family of course, but did his best never to show it.

“I’ll see you when I return brother, see that they come to no harm,” Dís warned as she nodded towards her sons. Thorin raised an eyebrow at the steely tone of her voice and swallowed nervously. She was perhaps the only dwarf able to strike fear into his heart, though he would never admit it. Her gaze softened and her lips formed a playful grin as she reached out to grip his chin firmly.

“And do try to smile every once in a while, you look like an ogre,” she teased, shaking his head in her hand. Thorin grunted and frowned, grateful when she finally released him. Dís took a deep breath and cast one last loving gaze towards her children, before hurrying out the door towards the caravan waiting not far away. Kíli rushed after her and Thorin reached out to keep him from setting foot outside, his thick hand halting the brunet in his path. The little dwarf flinched and gasped slightly, but stopped, watching his mother leave from within the doorframe. He stood until the caravan rolled completely out of sight, and even then Thorin had to usher him back so he could shut the door.

Kíli was obviously unsettled, and he scurried to his brother’s side, eyeing his uncle warily. The older dwarf stood impassive in the middle of the room, looking upon his nephews with an emotionless gaze. His figure was imposing, and it made Kíli inch away from him even further and lower his gaze. Kíli knew the dwarf was his uncle, but he hadn’t seen much of him in his life thus far, not that he could remember anyway. Thorin was often away on very important business, and the few times he stopped by to visit, were brief, and to the point, mostly spent speaking with his mother. It was Dwalin that often looked after Kíli and his brother, when Dís was occupied with other matters, and on occasion Balin would take care of them as well.

To be honest, Kíli was afraid of his uncle. He didn’t know what to expect around him, and it seemed like no matter what he did, Thorin was always frowning at him disapprovingly. The rest of the evening proved quite nerve-wracking for the little dwarf. He ate his supper timidly, always with a watchful eye on Thorin, and then he dragged Fíli away to bed as soon as he was able.

“Kíli! Kíli, come on, what’s wrong?” Fíli asked, as he paused just inside their room. Kíli had already tucked himself beneath the covers of his bed, and only his head poked out from beneath them, his dark brown hair strewn about his pillow.

“You never rush to bed like this,” Fíli commented, moving closer to peer at his brother’s face more closely. It was then he noticed the trembling lip, and the way his brother seemed on the verge of tears. Fíli frowned and lifted the covers, moving to lie beside the other dwarf. He studied Kíli’s expression a bit longer, and pressed his fingers against his cheek gently. It made Kíli think of their mother and his face crumpled up even further in anguish.

“Kee?” Fíli questioned, lifting the flyaway hairs off of his brother’s face carefully.

“Uncle hates me,” Kíli whispered, sniffling once or twice and burying his nose in his sleeve. Fíli couldn’t help but chuckle lightly, though Kíli only frowned further at the reaction.

“That’s not true,” Fíli insisted, snuggling a bit closer so he could look directly into the brunet’s eyes.

“Yes it is,” Kíli muttered, and he looked up into the other dwarf’s gaze resolutely.

“Why do you think that?” Fíli asked, wondering where such ridiculous thoughts came from.

“He won’t speak to me, and he’s always frowning when he looks at me,” Kíli explained sadly, and he mimicked the look and pointed to his brow. Fíli raised an eyebrow and patted his brother’s head with a tiny smirk upon his face. The blond dwarf knew their uncle had a lot on his mind, things that often made him appear more frightening than he really was. Thorin was haunted by things Fíli was only just beginning to understand. He wasn’t sure exactly what their uncle had gone through, but there were a few times he’d overheard Thorin talking to their mother, about Frerin’s death, and also about the battles they had fought in together. But no matter what, Fíli knew the older dwarf cared for his family. He showed it in other ways, by keeping them safe, and providing them with food.

“Kee, that’s just the way he is,” Fíli encouraged. He smiled softly and pushed his nose against his brother’s smaller one.

“I promise he doesn’t hate you,” the blonde assured, with more conviction than a dwarf twice his size. Kíli blinked at him a few times and then his shoulders shook as the first tears finally rolled down his cheeks.

“Hey, don’t cry, it’s okay,” Fíli tugged his brother tight against his chest and wrapped his arms about him snuggly.

“Mama won’t be gone long Kee. And besides, you’ve got me,” the blond reminded him, and Kíli nodded against his body as his tears soaked into his brother’s shirt. He cuddled into Fíli’s warmth, and after a long while fell asleep listening to the steady sound of his brother’s heart beating alongside his own.

* * *

Kíli took his brother’s words to heart. He trusted Fíli, more than any other, sometimes even more than his own mother. There was just something about Fíli that made him feel at ease. And besides, Fíli had never lied to him before. If his brother said his uncle didn’t hate him, then it must have been true. And thus was the reason Kíli stood uneasily at the entrance to the study, clutching a large book between his hands.

Thorin sat at the desk inside, his head lowered as he scratched quickly at some parchment. He was so focused he failed to notice his nephew’s approach, and even as Kíli stepped no more than a foot away, his uncle continued his writing. Kíli squeezed his fingers tight about the book’s binding and swallowed nervously.

“U-uncle,” he stuttered, waiting patiently for the other dwarf to acknowledge him. Thorin let out a sigh under his breath and turned his head without putting down his quill. The older dwarf eyed his nephew, pausing to look upon the book, before meeting his eyes.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice scratchy and low, and Kíli flinched at his tone.

“Would you…,” Kíli began, losing his nerve halfway through his question. Thorin narrowed his eyes impatiently and it urged him to continue.

“W-would you read to me?” Kíli stuttered, his eyes wide and hopeful, but his brow scrunched together when his uncle merely looked away, back towards his writing.

“I don’t have time for such things Kíli. Surely you are capable of reading to yourself,” Thorin muttered, and Kíli stood there watching him in silence for a few moments. The small dwarf felt his heart sink, and he nearly dropped the book in his haste to get away. He scuffled out of the room, holding back tears, running so quick that he missed his uncle glancing worriedly after him.

Kíli stormed into his room and fell atop his covers, startling his brother who sat nearby. The blond dwarf tilted his head at his brother’s shaking shoulders, and carefully approached. He took note of the book thrown haphazardly atop the bedding. It was one of his brother’s favourites, and usually he took very good care of the pages, the wear and tear around the edges entirely due to the frequency with which he and their mother read it.

“Kíli? What’s wrong? Are you crying again?” Fíli voiced, lifting his body to settle atop the bed next to his brother’s head. Kíli turned away and the blond frowned at him. He could tell his brother was crying, he didn’t really have to ask. He could even hear the muffled sobs and the tiny noises each time the other dwarf choked on his own tears. And even if he hadn’t been able to hear the specific sounds, Fíli still would have known. He always knew what his brother was feeling. He could hear it in his heart.

“Kíli?” Fíli reached out, running his fingers through his brother’s hair, and he leaned over his body, so that his lips were next to the other dwarf’s ear.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” Fíli whispered, and as he tugged on Kíli’s shoulder gently, the other dwarf rolled onto his back and looked up into his eyes. The brunet’s face was streaked with tears, and he looked even more upset than the night prior.

“I asked uncle to r-read to me,” Kíli started, his speech interrupted by a few sniffles and hiccups. Fíli waited patiently for the other to catch his breath so he could continue.  

“He said no,” Kíli muttered, his lower lip trembling as he looked away. Fíli made an understanding noise and reached out to begin wiping away the tears with the edge of his sleeve methodically. He knew what the other dwarf was struggling with, and it seemed he was in need of reassurance again. Fíli was beginning to wonder if it would become a nightly routine.

“It’s not because he doesn’t like you. I’m sure he would read to you if he could,” Fíli explained as his brother closed his eyes against the feel of fabric against his face. A few tears still leaked from the corners of his eyes, and his face was puffy and red, but his sobs had tapered off to just mildly laboured breathing. Fíli pulled his arm away and waited for the other dwarf to look at him before he began speaking again.

“He’s very busy,” Fíli said, watching his brother’s glassy eyes intently.

“Uncle Thorin has to look after our people, and protect the village,” the blond explained, his brother’s dark gaze glued to his face.

“And he has to run the blacksmith, and hunt to keep our stores filled with food and supplies,” Fíli further listed, watching as Kíli processed the information. Fíli brushed the other dwarf’s bangs back, and studied him for a few moments before tapping him lightly on the nose.

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” Fíli mentioned, and Kíli nodded gently. The brunet reached out to grab his brother’s hand and slowly the brunet sat up so that he could lean his head against the other dwarf’s shoulder. Fíli smiled and kissed him on top of his head, hugging him close to his side. The blond eyed the book resting not far away, and he leaned towards it slightly, and pulled it into his lap, flipping to the first page.

“I’ll read to you tonight, okay?” Fíli suggested, and he was pleased when Kíli smiled happily, his eyes alight with joy. It was another thing he loved about his brother. He always wore his emotions on his sleeve, and that included when he was happy. Fíli began the story easily, barely having to read the pages, already knowing the entire tale from start to finish. He’d read it several times before, and heard it read hundreds of others. As he made his voice turn into a low growl to imitate one of the characters, Fíli grinned as he faintly heard his brother’s heart skip a beat and speed up slightly. He eyed his brother in wonder and felt his heart racing along as well. Eventually Kíli’s heart slowed and quietened, turning to a gentle thrum as he drifted off into sleep again. It was always a comforting sound for Fíli and he was almost always able to hear it, at least when his brother was nearby. In fact, when he couldn’t, it was rather unsettling, and he often found himself searching out the other dwarf just to remind himself of the sound. Fíli never questioned why, for it was something he had always been able to hear, from the day his brother was born. And for some reason he never really noticed that Kíli’s heart always seemed to beat at the exact same rhythm as his own.    

* * *

Thorin watched his nephews with a wary eye, not quite sure how to act around the two lads. He didn’t know how to take care of children. Not in the least. He’d never had any of his own, and likely never would. It had been easy when the two were just babes. Caring for babes was like clockwork. They were either hungry, tired, or in need of a change, and Thorin found that, though sometimes tedious, much more manageable. But as they grew older, they became more curious, more attentive, and often the questions asked, were ones he hadn’t the slightest ability to answer.

Fíli was not as hard to take care of. He was eager to learn, and diligent in his studies, so Thorin found he was able to simply give him a task and let him find his own way. Kíli on the other hand…he had not the faintest idea how to handle. The lad was a bundle of nerves, either overly happy because of something nonsensical and unexplainable to his older eyes, or entirely reserved, due to some sort of fear of rejection. Or so he suspected. To be honest, Thorin wasn’t quite sure what went on in his youngest nephew’s mind at all. He had imagination beyond the scope of any Thorin had witnessed before, and the older dwarf often found it difficult to keep up. His thoughts were clouded with memories of times he would rather forget but never could, and it stunted his ability to see the world the same way as Kíli seemed to.

So Thorin tended to avoid contact with the child as much as possible, instead leaving Fíli to entertain him, which he seemed willing enough to do. He knew sometimes his cold exterior hurt Kíli, and that was never his intention. He loved his nephews, more than life, but showing them such a thing seemed even more difficult than fighting in a war. Thorin was worried about the younger of the two. He was almost certain there had been tears in his nephew’s eyes the night prior, when he’d carelessly sent him away. And he hoped at the very least, he might be able to make up for that.

Thorin approached the two lads calmly, sitting next to them at the table they were working at. Fíli was reading a book about their forefathers, taking care to study each illustration thoroughly. He seemed so advanced for his age, and Thorin smiled proudly at the sight. When he glanced towards Kíli, the lad ducked his head, clearly embarrassed at getting caught staring. The brunet was doodling on some parchment. Thorin couldn’t quite make the shape out from his angle, and all he saw were several scratchy dark lines. He watched him continue for a few moments, smiling faintly as the tiny dwarf stuck his tongue out as he concentrated. Whatever he was drawing seemed very important.

Thorin directed his attention back towards Fíli, deciding it was best to pull his eldest nephew into conversation first, and perhaps Kíli might become more comfortable with the idea after watching.

“You like reading about the history of our people, Fíli. Do you wish to be a scholar one day?” Thorin asked, and Fíli’s eyes moved away from the text and looked towards him keenly.

“Actually, I’d like to be a warrior, like Dwalin! I’ve never seen him lose a fight,” Fíli spoke, and Thorin raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Or maybe a blacksmith, like you,” Fíli added with a smile, and Thorin could not help but feel honoured by the young dwarf. He truly was a Durin at heart.

“Both valid goals, and I would be glad to train you,” Thorin suggested, and Fíli’s eyes lit up as he grinned happily. Thorin turned to his other nephew, who was watching with interest, and he even looked eager to join in.

“And you, Kíli?” Thorin asked, surprised when his youngest nephew looked him in the eye excitedly. The young dwarf bit his lip and splayed his fingers on the table as he sat up straight.

“I want to fly! So I can make friends with the clouds and birds!” Kíli blurted out, and Thorin had to hold back a laugh.

“That’s ridiculous Kíli,” Thorin stated, and he heard Fíli chuckling lightly as well.

“Dwarves cannot fly,” The older dwarf explained at the sight of his nephew’s crestfallen face.

“But…what if I made something so that I could! Mister Agnarr down the path told me if you could think of something you could make it!” Kíli rambled, his eyes still focused on his uncle. He seemed desperate for confirmation, but Thorin shook his head at the statement instead.

“Mister Agnarr is ancient, and half mad, he’s clearly filled your brain with useless things. If we were meant to fly, Mahal would have granted us wings,” Thorin chastised. The young dwarf’s face fell even further, and his fingers clenched tightly against the tabletop, crumpling up his drawing, while Fíli stiffened at his side.

“Dwarves were given the gift of craftsmanship, so that we might create and build things that are useful to our people, not so that we might make friends with animals and clouds in the sky,” Thorin continued to lecture, failing to notice the pain in Kíli’s dark brown eyes.

“You’d be better suited directing your attention towards something else instead of dreaming of such nonsense things,” The older dwarf explained, and when he finally turned to look at his nephew he was caught by surprise. Kíli’s eyes were moist and red rimmed, and his lip trembled viciously. It was almost as though Thorin had crushed his very soul. When the first tears fell, Thorin opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, and Kíli pushed himself away from the table and fled the room, knocking his chair over in the process.  Fíli sat idly for a moment, but after a single look towards his uncle he stood calmly and followed after his brother.

Thorin was struck by the sudden silence of the room. He wasn’t sure quite where he’d gone wrong, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized he’d been far too harsh with his words. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily, knowing he’d done even more damage to his already feeble relationship with Kíli. Thorin tapped his fingers against the table a few times, wondering if he should go after Kíli as well, but he was probably in better hands with his brother. Besides, Thorin would likely only manage to make yet another blunder.

He opened his eyes again, looking over at the parchment left behind, before he leaned forward and dragged the crumpled drawing to his side of the table. He flattened it down and looked upon it with interest, turning the sketch around so it was right side up. Thorin’s brow rose up in revelation as he took in the rough lines. Looking upon the drawing properly he could tell it was clearly some kind of bird, with its wings spread as though about to take flight. It was primitive, yes, but still beautiful, and Thorin held it between his thumb in forefinger with care before gently folding the parchment and tucking it into his pocket. His nephew’s mind was a sacred place, a place he would likely never understand, but still Thorin vowed to do his best not to hinder his dreams in the future.

* * *

Kíli remained distant for the following days, never looking at his uncle directly, and never speaking unless spoken to. Thorin too kept his distance, and this did little to improve their relationship, and the space between the two seemed only to grow greater with time. Nearly a week had passed, and Thorin watched his nephews playing through one of the windows in the cabin, while Balin sat across from him sipping a drink.

“I don’t understand why you find it so difficult to talk to him,” Balin admitted, as he watched Kíli stumble and fall to the ground. The old dwarf cringed slightly but relaxed when he saw Fíli pick the lad up and brush off his knees.

“I’ve done nothing but make him cry,” Thorin groaned, and he lifted his tankard of ale and took a large gulp. It was early in the day for him to drink, but he needed the comfort. Balin hummed and smiled at the two boys playing. Kíli had recovered quickly from his collision and he was chasing butterflies while his brother laughed at his side.

“He’s a child, Thorin,” Balin spoke calmly, before pulling his gaze from the window and casting it upon his friend.

“You were imaginative and free-spirited once,” the wise dwarf reminded him and Thorin scoffed and slammed his mug to the table.

“Never like this,” he hissed, nodding towards his nephew outside. He was pretending to be some sort of creature, holding out his arms in front of his body limply, and Thorin could not make any sense of it.

“Does he not remind you of another?” Balin asked, as he ran a hand slowly through the long strands of his greying beard. Thorin narrowed his eyes as he watched his nephew playing. It was true, Kíli had the same eagerness about life that his brother had possessed, even up until the day of his death. They were both so fanciful, always caught up in some sort of creative quest, and there was a spark hidden behind their eyes that never seemed to fade. There was a time when Thorin had respected that, but those days had faded long ago.

“It doesn’t change the fact that I cannot seem to…to connect with him, not like with Fíli,” Thorin admitted, taking another long sip before looking his friend in the eye.

“I love those boys, I want to be a father figure to both of them, but…I’m not sure how,” he confessed, and Balin smiled gently at him.

“Be open minded Thorin. He’s so young. He just needs to know you care,” Balin reassured the other dwarf. He waved his hand about in the air a bit and sighed wistfully.

“He’s tactile, he needs…to be held, hugged. And I think most of all he just wants your respect,” he continued, and Thorin looked at him out of the corner of his eye. He shoved a hand inside one of his pockets and fingered the scrap of parchment still within. He wasn’t confident, but perhaps he could try to be kinder, at the very least.

* * *

The clanging of iron echoed around the blacksmith as Thorin shaped a blade to his will. It was hard work, but he found some pleasure in the craft. There was always a sense of accomplishment once a blade was forged, and the final details etched into the design. He prided himself on making some of the most balanced and well-crafted weapons in the Blue Mountains. It was the only reason Thorin had managed to make a living working out of his small shop.

He kept his nephews busy with some of the smaller tasks within the store, glad to see Kíli taking an interest in his work, even if it was mostly a result of his curiosity. His youngest nephew was constantly poking at things and it had Thorin a tad on edge. He felt the need to constantly watch him, just to make sure he didn’t do something stupid, like stick his finger into the embers. It was a difficult task, considering the amount of work he had ahead of him for the week’s orders. Thorin was in the middle of adding the final shaping to the blade in his hands when Kíli approached, peering at the anvil oddly and flinching each time Thorin brought the hammer down upon it.

“Uncle, c-can I help?” Kíli asked, between a swing of the hammer, and Thorin frowned as he tried to maintain focus on his work.

“Not right now Kíli,” he muttered, brushing his nephew off as he slammed the hammer down a final time. Thorin studied the blade and then quickly thrust it into water, watching the liquid come to a boil around the iron. He pulled the blade out and set it away for further detailing, before grabbing the next piece he was meant to forge. It was only then that Thorin caught the movement out of his eye, and he turned quickly at the sight. Kíli was hobbling over the cauldron filled with water, now bubbling furiously from the heat of the blade that he’d just finished, and the older dwarf’s eyes widened as he watched the object teeter and his nephew begin to slip.

“Get away from that!” Thorin shouted, and he hurled himself to his nephew’s side, shoving him with such violence that he was thrown to the ground. The cauldron toppled, and searing hot water fell over his arm, burning his skin, already bringing much of it to a blister. Thorin growled, and reached for another bucket of water, shoving his arm into the cooler liquid in a hurry.

“I…I didn’t mean to,” Kíli stuttered as he watched his uncle in shock from his place on the ground. The brunet’s eyes were wide and his face a mask of horror. Thorin gritted his teeth through the pain, and pulled his arm from the water, watching the burn form atop his arm. It was going to be a nasty one, though he knew there had been worse. The older dwarf turned quickly towards his nephew and gripped his wrist, quickly checking for any signs of burning. He let him go in relief, perhaps rougher than he intended, and set about cleaning up the mess.

“Go back home, Kíli,” Thorin ordered as he mopped up the still warm water, and then his eyes drifted to his other nephew, who had remained silent throughout the ordeal.

“Fíli, walk with him,” He uttered, and though he did not watch him, Thorin heard the blond scuffling towards his brother, and the sound of their footfalls soon faded as both left the building in a hurry. Thorin set back about his work, doing his best to ignore the pain he still felt on his skin. As much as he wanted to visit Óin for some medical attention, there was much for him yet to complete.

Supper that night was spent in silence, and Kíli barely ate anything at all. When Thorin approached to take his plate away, lightly setting his palm against the small dwarf’s shoulder, the lad flinched from him, cast a look upon his seared flesh, and then scurried away to his room, leaving the older dwarf to stare after him with a frown. His nephew had never reacted quite so negatively to his touch before, and it worried him greatly.

“Fíli, can you help dry the dishes tonight?” Thorin requested, his eyes still focused on the hallway entrance, even as he lifted dishes from the table.

“Okay,” Fíli said softly, and his chair scratched against the ground as he stood up from the table, grabbing several plates as well. Thorin scrubbed at the dishes with a faraway look, passing them to his nephew methodically. His eyes lowered to look upon the lad’s blond head of hair and Thorin paused in his dishwashing for a moment.

“Fíli,” he began, and the young dwarf peered up at him over the dish he was working to wipe off. Thorin opened and closed his mouth a few times, and finally took a breath and picked up another dish.

“Why does your brother fear me?” Thorin asked, and Fíli bit his lip and stood on his toes to set the dry dish atop the countertop.

“He…he likes you,” Fíli spoke, and he shook out the cloth in his hands.

“But he thinks you hate him,” the young dwarf mentioned hesitantly. Thorin held the soapy dish in his hand, ignoring the foamy suds that began to run down his arms. He winced slightly as they made contact with his burn, and then passed the dish to his nephew.

“That’s…ridiculous, why would he think such a thing?” Thorin asked, his eyebrows low above his eyes. Fíli shrugged as he wiped at the dish and Thorin sighed.

“I care for both of you, very much,” Thorin admitted, and he settled his hands on the countertop wearily. Fíli looked up at him with saddened eyes and leant subtly into his side.

“I know,” the blond murmured into his side, and Thorin moved his arm to rest upon his shoulder lightly.

“So why doesn’t your brother?” Thorin mused, his fingers dragging through his nephew’s hair idly.

“You’ve never told him,” Fíli answered, and the older dwarf looked at him in surprise. Fíli’s blue eyes were watching him seriously and Thorin waited patiently for him to continue.

“I…I remember when father died,” Fíli whispered, leaning further into his uncle for support. The young dwarf saddened whenever he thought of that fateful day. He had been horrified, frozen by the sight of his father’s lifeless body. But Thorin had been there that day, and many after, holding him through his nightmares, and calming him while he cried what seemed like endless amounts of tears into his uncle’s beard. Dís was distraught, and though she was there for her children, some days it was difficult for her to comfort them and keep hold of her own strained emotions as well. So Thorin had stepped in, reading to him and Kíli, and he often held them both until they fell into restful sleeps.

“But Kíli was too young. He doesn’t remember any of that, he doesn’t know how much you care,” Fíli said lowly. At the time his brother was just a babe, not yet able to fully understand.   But Fíli knew, he understood. He had heard his uncle’s whispered words to them each night; he saw the emotion so often hidden in the older dwarf’s eyes. Even when Thorin left for several years, to venture to the other kingdoms, Fíli remembered. And each time he returned, no matter how short the visit was, Fíli was happy to see him.

Thorin’s fingers trembled slightly against his nephew’s shoulder and then he tugged him close into a sidelong hug. He then knelt carefully at Fíli’s side, and held his face between his hands, studying him with a faint smile.

“You’re a good brother, you really watch out for him don’t you?” Thorin noted as he brushed his thumbs behind the lad’s ears. Fíli nodded and smiled confidently, and then he lunged forwards and wrapped his arms around his uncle tightly. Thorin grunted at the contact, but chuckled and hugged him back. He lifted his nephew from the ground and spun him around once before putting him back down. Thorin patted the blond on the head and ruffled his hair a bit before nudging him away.

“Go on, I’m sure he’s waiting for you,” the older dwarf urged, and his nephew grinned broadly, and disappeared down the hall. Thorin took a deep breath and focused on putting the dishes away on the shelves. Perhaps he was overthinking everything. Maybe all he really had to do was talk to Kíli, like he might anyone else, like he might Fíli. The dwarf hung the dish cloth to dry and pulled Kíli’s drawing from his pocket, studying the dark scratchy lines. He definitely had to try.

* * *

As much as Thorin wanted to simply strike up a casual conversation with his youngest nephew, it proved much more difficult than he anticipated. Kíli rarely looked towards him, and the lad did his best to stay hidden in other rooms around the small home unless absolutely necessary. And those few times they were together, Kíli didn’t say a word. Thorin tried to speak to him, asking him questions about his day, or what he thought about certain things, but more often than not he simply got shrugs or headshakes in response. It was a struggle for Thorin to even come up with things to say, and he knew Kíli would remain distant if he didn’t manage to find something to pull him in. He was stubborn, just like his mother, and just like the entire Durin line for that matter. The older dwarf needed something to really capture his youngest nephew’s attention, something to make him feel involved, and useful. Something to show Kíli that he was loved, and not hated at all.

He thought of it one day while sitting in the study. His nephews were both in the room, and Fíli was doing his best to teach his brother a bit of their language. Kíli’s attention span was limited at the best of times, but somehow the blond managed to keep his brother focused on the task, and Kíli was just beginning to memorize the alphabet, along with a few key words. Thorin watched them proudly, and he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. As much as he didn’t want to interrupt them, he figured it was as good a time as any to put his plan into action.

“Kíli,” Thorin uttered, drawing the attention of his youngest nephew towards him. The brunet looked at him fearfully, his hands hovering over the pages of the book he studied from, and Thorin felt his heart constrict at the sight.

“Come here lad,” he requested, and Kíli blinked at him in surprise. The brunet didn’t move from his spot, not until Fíli leant over and rubbed his back encouragingly. The two boys shared a look, and Fíli nodded gently. It was enough to make Kíli get up and approach, albeit warily. Once he was within arms’ reach, Thorin rolled up the parchment he was writing on, tied it off, and held it out in front of him.

“See this note?” Thorin asked, and Kíli glanced towards his hand and nodded faintly.

“I need you to deliver it for me,” the older dwarf mentioned, and Kíli’s eyes lit up ever so slightly.

“It’s a very important task, and you have to promise you won’t tell anyone else, alright? It’s a secret, not even you can look at it,” Thorin said, his voice lowered slightly as he watched his nephew with a serious expression. Kíli perked up, and stepped closer, nodding eagerly. Thorin smiled as he watched that spark reappear in his nephew’s eyes and he twirled the roll of parchment about between his fingers. Truthfully, there was little more than a message explaining why Kíli was delivering the note inside, but hopefully, if all went well, his nephew would never know.

“You remember where Master Dwalin lives?” Thorin checked, and when his nephew nodded once again, he passed the note to him. Kíli’s small fingers wrapped about it quickly and he pulled it close to his chest as though it was a precious treasure.

“Take this note to him, and then come right back, okay?” Thorin requested, and Kíli was so excited he was jumping lightly up and down.

“Okay!” the lad nearly shouted, and not a moment later he was practically running out the front door. Thorin’s gaze followed him fondly and Fíli smiled and closed his eyes as he heard his brother’s heart beat lighten dramatically for the first time in days.

* * *

Kíli hurried down the dirt path towards Master Dwalin’s home. He tripped occasionally over his bootlaces, but always caught his balance and continued happily on his way. The brunet clutched the secret note carefully between the fingers of his left hand, with only one thought on his mind. _Get the note safely to Dwalin_. His heart was pounding in his chest from a mixture of excitement and joy. Thorin had entrusted him, given him an important task! And he was definitely not going back until that note was delivered.

He skidded around a corner, entering the thick of town. It was a bit tricky finding the right building, since many of them looked the same. But Balin and Dwalin’s home had very specific markings in the wooden frame. Kíli looked closely at each home he skipped passed, and finally he saw it, the geometrical markings that Dwalin had hand etched into the wood himself, or so the warrior said. Kíli let out a happy gasp and moved to the entranceway. He knocked heartily and teetered back and forth on his toes as he waited, and finally the door creaked open and a long greying beard appeared before him.

“Kíli?” the old dwarf muttered, and he peered over down at the lad curiously.

“Hi Master Balin!” Kíli chippered, and he fiddled with the note nervously, and tried to peer around the other dwarf and inside the home.

“Is…is Master Dwalin home? I need to speak with him please,” Kíli requested, his words slurring together a bit in his excitement. Balin ran a finger through several strands of his beard and chuckled lightly before he shook his head apologetically.

“I’m afraid he’s not here laddie. Dwalin’s working down at the mines today,” he mentioned, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. Kíli’s face immediately fell, and he nibbled on his lower lip and dropped his arms to his side.

“Oh,” Kíli muttered under his breath, and his gaze veered off to the side, peering at the shapes of the tall cavernous mines in the distance.

“Is there something I can help with?” Balin asked, following his gaze, and Kíli whipped his face upwards, his eyes wide in surprise.

“No!” Kíli shouted, and he pulled the note behind his back. His mind worked frantically as he recalled his uncle’s words. Thorin had very specifically said that the note was only to go to Master Dwalin, and no one else. The brunet’s brow knitted up anxiously as he glanced at the dwarf before him suspiciously. Kíli knew that Balin was trustworthy, and Dwalin’s older brother, but what if Thorin asked how it went when he returned home? Kíli would either have to lie, or tell the truth, and surely his uncle would be disappointed in him for not listening to his instructions properly. And he really didn’t want to lie. Not to his uncle. He wanted Thorin to be proud of him! Kíli was sure he had to deliver it to the right dwarf. There was no other choice! He stood up straight and gathered his courage, looking towards the mines farther into the village. It wasn’t strictly allowed, but perhaps, for the sake of his mission, it might be alright just this once to venture into the mines.

“It’s okay, thanks master Balin!” Kíli said decisively, and he turned and began making his way further into town.

“Kíli! You’re not to go to the mines by yourself, you know that,” Balin shouted after him, and Kíli turned towards him one last time. The lad nodded, his fingers crossed behind his back, and he continued on his way regardless. He was determined, and it wasn’t really lying. He hadn’t actually said he wouldn’t go. Kíli could finish his task, like a proper dwarf, and then maybe Thorin wouldn’t hate him anymore.

His footfalls did not falter, and before long Kíli was just approaching the gated area that lead into the mines. A few dwarves eyed him curiously, and many frowned, clearly wondering what sort of mischief he was up to on that particular day, but Kíli walked by them, his head held high. He was there on very important business after all. The dwarf at the gate seemed hesitant to let him through, but it was easy enough for him to slip by unnoticed when several exhausted and loud miners made their way out in a group. He inched through the caverns; unsure which route was the best to take. There were carts and bags strewn about, and various rocks and stone piled up all around. He could hear the clanging of picks against the solid stone walls, and the low thrum of the forges working somewhere deep beneath the ground. Several dwarves stopped and cast him odd glances, clearly wondering what such a young dwarf was doing inside, and though a few pointed and whispered, no one stopped him in his path.

Kíli peered over an edge, his eyes widening at the golden glow emanating from the embers inside. He could see huge pistons working and hundreds of dwarves running about, pushing along heavy loads of gems and precious metals. Chains creaked all around him as roped off mechanisms worked to haul things from the lower levels up high. He stared in awe at the interior of the mines, and couldn’t keep his gaze from flittering about in excitement. Kíli tightened his grip on the note and the crunching sound of the paper made him jolt and look down in surprise. He gasped lightly and puffed the shape of it back out, and then forced himself to continue on his journey.

Luckily Dwalin was a fairly easy dwarf to spot, even in such a big crowd. His bald head reflected the faint glow from the forges, and he stood far wider and taller than almost any other dwarf in the Blue Mountains, maybe anywhere. Kíli grabbed hold of a railing when he caught sight of him, and then he struggled for several minutes to find a safe path to where Dwalin was working deep below. The noise became much louder, and even a bit painful for Kíli’s young ears as he continued further in the mines, and he flinched when a dwarf beside him swung a pickaxe into the solid stone wall. As Kíli approached, a few dwarves muttered and narrowed their eyes at him, and the brunet saw the dwarf Dwalin was speaking to incline his head in his direction. Dwalin turned towards him with a frown and his eyes widened dramatically.

“What are yeh doin’ here laddie? Yer not supposed ta’ be at the mines,” Dwalin gasped in surprise, and he hurried to the lad’s side, bending low to settle his hands atop his shoulders. Kíli ignored his worry, and held out his hand, the tip of the scroll peeking out just above his fist.

“I brought you a note! From uncle! I promised I would get it to you safe!” Kíli spoke proudly, and he grinned toothily at the large dwarf as he waited for his response. But Dwalin merely frowned at him, and gripped his shoulders harder.

“If Thorin knew yeh were here he’d be furious!” Dwalin hissed over the clanging echoing around them. Kíli’s smile dropped off his face and his grip slackened slightly, but he still made sure to hold the note securely between his fingers.

“Go on, sit over there, an’ I’ll take yeh home once I’m finished,” Dwalin ordered, pointing to a bench not far from one of the giant forges. Kíli nibbled at his lip and scrunched up his brow, but finally hobbled away. He didn’t understand. For once the brunet thought he was doing something right, but Dwalin only seemed upset to see him. Kíli rubbed at the sweat forming on his brow and lifted his legs up in front of him. It was warm where he sat, and now that he was no longer driven by his task, the droning sounds inside the mines became even louder and more annoying. Kíli pouted moodily as he watched the hustle and bustle of working dwarves all around him, all the while fiddling with the parchment in his hands.  

The forge behind him whirred to life as the dwarves added to it, and Kíli watched as puffs of smoke flew from the sides. The buzzing noises picked up again and he looked away, already bored with things that had seemed so interesting just moments prior. He was studying his dragging bootlaces when someone high above let out a yell, hollering out over the pit, and then there was a loud clang, followed by another and another. Kíli looked up as more dwarves began shouting and the forge behind him came to a guttural halt.

“Look out!” Someone yelled out, and Kíli turned towards the forge with curious eyes, just as a deep loud rattling started up somewhere inside the contraption. Suddenly the ground beneath his feet began shaking and rumbling rapidly, and Kíli lurched on the bench and reached out to support his body. The brunet lifted his boots from the ground in surprise, as steam erupted with a whistling howl, and smoke began filling the air around him. It seemed like the entire mine was vibrating, and rubble was falling from the pathways above, hitting the ground around him. Kíli looked up just in time to witness Dwalin’s look of horror, and the bulky dwarf was running towards him and calling his name from across the lower level of the mines.

“Kíli! Get away from there!” Dwalin bellowed, his jaw stretching wide as he cried out. His face was contorted in a way that seemed unreal, and it frightened Kíli and made him widen his eyes. His shouts echoed loudly, and then Kíli’s ears were ringing, and he lifted his hands to cover them as something screeched horrifically behind him. When he turned, he saw nothing but red. His heart skipped a beat, and he barely had time to think as his body was thrown from the force of the explosion.

* * *

Thorin stretched out his weary muscles and sat back in his chair. His bones creaked at the action and he groaned as he looked out the window nearby. His nephew had been gone for quite some time, and Thorin knew it shouldn’t take much longer than an hour to get to Dwalin’s house and back, even if Kíli stopped by and stayed for a while. He stood up somewhat anxiously and made his way to the front door, stepping outside and looking down the path. There was no sign of his nephew.

Fíli sidled up beside him, and Thorin studied him, taking note of how visibly anxious the little blond seemed. His face was frozen as his eyes peered off into the distance, and his fists were clenched tightly at his sides. Thorin nudged him lightly to grab his attention.

“Get your things, we’ll go get him,” Thorin stated, and Fíli nodded and hurried to put on his boots. They made good time, and before long, stood on the front steps of their destination, looking into Balin’s wise eyes.

“Cousin,” Thorin acknowledged him with a nod, and he received one in return.

“Did Kíli come by here at all?” he asked quickly, trying to hide his worry unsuccessfully and Balin frowned at him.

“Yes, quite some time ago, he was looking for my brother, but Dwalin’s down at the mines today. He left not long after I told him that,” Balin explained, rubbing a hand over his chin. Thorin’s eyes narrowed and he looked down at his nephew beside him when he felt the blond’s grip tighten around his arm. Fíli was looking off into the distance, his eyes glazed over, his breathing pattern unsteady. Thorin opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but he was thrown off balance when a huge bang erupted from behind him, and the ground shook beneath his feet. Balin’s home stuttered on its foundation, and the older dwarf gripped the door frame for support, his eyes searching the distance in wonder. Thorin’s eyes flew towards the mines, and he gasped when he saw the black smoke flying up into the sky. Fíli let out an anguished wail at his side, and Thorin took off towards the site without a second thought. He was heaving as his feet slammed against the ground heavily, and he could hear screams and shouts from the dwarves within the mines. The crowds were swarming, many running from within the gates, covered from head to toe in soot and ash.

Thorin heaved as he came to a halt, and he staggered through the gate and lifted his shirt to cover his mouth. He crouched low in an effort to avoid the blackened smoke, but it did little to aid his lungs, and he coughed repeatedly as he made his way through the clouded pathways.

“Kíli!” Thorin shouted down the caverns, but it was lost amongst so many other searching cries. He turned a corner and a dwarf knocked into him, pausing in surprise as their eyes met.

“Thorin! The little lad, he was down in the lower levels!” the miner shouted at him and he pointed back the way he’d come. Thorin couldn’t recognize him, so blackened was his face, but he hurried down the suggested path, sliding along the gradual slope. Dwarves were screaming out in pain, and Thorin frantically searched their faces, looking for one that was far younger than the rest. His blue eyes came to a halt on a body that lay dead and deformed, and he felt his throat constrict slightly before he was able to move on. It wasn’t his boy, it wasn’t Kíli.

Thorin whisked the smoke away from his face, trying to make sense of the chaos around him, and then he finally saw a dwarf he knew. Dwalin was throwing rocks from the ground frenziedly along with a few other dwarves, and Thorin skidded to a halt at his side. He reached out and gripped his friend’s shoulder, tugging him towards him fiercely.

“Dwalin! Where is he?” Thorin shouted, and the other dwarf’s eyes were wide and wild. He said nothing, only shook his head, and rushed back to his work, hurling more and more blocks from the ground as he growled manically. His fingers were bloodied from the effort, and his legs and arms sported several angry looking wounds. But it was his eyes that scared Thorin the most. They were haunted, terrified, and Thorin’s heart skipped a beat as he realised what that meant.

“No,” Thorin whispered, and he looked towards the pile of rubble hysterically.

“No! Kíli!” he yelled, and then he too was throwing himself at the rocks, heaving them up in his arms in an attempt to unbury whatever they hid. He bent and stood, gripped and threw, rock after rock after rock. And then his eyes caught sight of flesh, and Thorin fell to his knees as he realised it was a tiny hand. Thorin reached out, his fingers touching the skin hesitantly at first, and then he linked them hurriedly with his nephew's limp ones. They were so tiny, and Thorin felt his eyes fill with moisture. He couldn’t see the rest of Kíli’s body, but there was no doubt in his mind that it was his nephew, and the streaks of blood on his skin made him crumble against the ground.   Dwalin cursed loudly at his side and continued moving rocks as fast as he could, all the while beckoning others over to help.

“O’er here! Hurry!” his voice rang out, and Thorin watched as inch after inch of his nephew’s broken body was revealed beneath the rubble. He felt tears already inching their way from his eyes, and he blinked rapidly and gripped his nephews hand tightly between both his hands.

And then something moved.

“Kíli?!” Thorin breathed, his voice just barely audible.

Those tiny little fingers had moved…he was sure of it! Thorin watched as they struggled again inside his grip and as more rocks were lifted from Kíli’s body his gaze fell upon the lad’s face. It was frozen in an expression of pain, but Kíli’s eyes were open, and they flicked towards him agonizingly. Thorin gasped and Dwalin urged the other dwarves on, until they were able to move enough rocks to slide the small dwarf’s body out from beneath the rubble. Thorin’s face crumpled as he took note of his nephew’s broken frame. His legs were shattered, his ribs, crushed, and Kíli let out an anguished whine as they moved him.

“Kíli! It’s okay, hush, hush,” he whispered, and he pressed his face into the brunet’s tangled locks of hair. Kíli choked and gasped as he struggled to breathe, his lungs clearly hindered by his collapsed rib cage. Other dwarves were gathered around his body, and Thorin flinched along with his nephew when someone set one of Kíli’s legs back in place. The howl that came out of his mouth was grating and Thorin had to squint his eyes and look away. He ran his fingers over the boy’s face, and looked down into his eyes, listening intently as Kíli fought to stay alive.

“Oh child, please, don’t give up,” Thorin begged, and Kíli’s eyes focused on him for a moment even through his haze of pain.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, and Thorin frowned as he placed a hand beneath his nephew’s chin.

“I…kept it safe, I s-swear,” Kíli mumbled, and suddenly his arm moved, lifting as much as it could, and Thorin saw the crumpled scroll he still clutched between his fingers. Thorin heaved and he placed a hand atop the scroll, pulling the paper from his nephew’s weak hand. He watched agonisingly as Kíli’s arm lowered, and as every muscle in his body went limp. The brunet’s eyes fluttered closed, and his choking gasps became less frequent, and ever so slowly, those tiny fingers stopped moving, until they were completely still.

“Oh Mahal, no,” Thorin murmured beside his head. His heart was breaking, and he felt his body grow hollow and cold, but it was nothing compared to the complete and utter desolation he saw as he lifted his gaze and connected it with another.

“Uncle,” Fíli mouthed, his voice lost amongst the screams and shouting all around them.

“Uncle, I can’t hear his heart.”


	3. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the week long wait, but here is a sizeable chapter that hopefully makes up for it! Thank you to everyone who's given me kudos or commented on this story so far! :)

The wagon teetered slightly as it rolled down the rocky pathway towards Ered Luin, and Dís heaved a relieved sigh as she finally caught sight of the villages on the outskirts of the Blue Mountains.  She was exhausted from her travels and could not wait to see her children.  Her few weeks away had felt like years without them by her side, and she had spent much of her time remembering their smiling faces fondly.  By the looks of things she would arrive long before sundown, with more than enough time left in the day to have an extravagant meal.  Perhaps she’d even delve into her best stores of ale. 

Dís inched over the side of the caravan, peeking around the trees that just impeded her vision.  Beyond them lay the scenic beauty of the mountainous landscape, and though not nearly as impressive or beautiful as Erebor, it was her home now, and she smiled blissfully as the ridges began appearing along the skyline.  Her expression slipped slightly when she noticed strange thick clouds looming over the village.  They seemed dissipated, as though they had been there for several days already, but still dense and dark enough that whatever caused them had been fairly recent and likely grand.  Even from her distance she could tell that something terrible had happened, something that put her on edge.  The other dwarves in the caravan were mumbling and whispering, clearly just as confused.

“What happened here?” Dís whispered, her eyes narrowing with worry.  Her gaze searched the surrounding area and she nearly fell from the wagon as she leaned even further over the side.

“You there!  What’s that cloud from?” Dís shouted to an old merchant packing up his wares.  He looked up in surprise and he squinted at her through near sightless eyes.

“An accident in the mines. Three days past,” he stated wearily, and then immediately returned to his work. Dís clenched her fists against the wooden frame beneath them and stood suddenly, jumping from the caravan with ease.  Her boots landed firmly on the ground and she patted the side of the wagon as it continued rolling away.

“Lady Dís! Your supplies!” One of her companions called after her, but she waved him off.

“I’ll get them later, go on to the store hold without me,” Dís voiced, and she moved along one of the dirt paths that led deeper into the village and towards her home.  Dís tugged her satchel over her shoulder roughly, and when she spotted a group of dwarves gathered on a corner, she approached in an attempt to find out more.

“Excuse me!  I’ve just returned from out of town.  What exactly happened?” Dís asked, lifting her chin in the direction of the mines, and a fine bearded dwarf lifted her head, glancing in Dís’s direction.

“No one knows for sure, except something made one of the forges explode,” she explained, shaking out a tapestry.

“It was devastating, the interior of the mine is half collapsed.  Won’t be up and running for a long time yet,” another spoke up.

“Was anyone hurt?”  Dís questioned worriedly.  She knew it was likely that her family was safe.  Thorin rarely ventured into the mines, as much of his work was confined to his store, and her home was far enough away from the site that no harm should have come to her sons, even if they were outdoors at the time of the eruption.  Still, when the dwarves faces turned solemn Dís felt her heart sink for the families that lost loved ones.

“Aye, too many to name, and even more still missin’, buried beneath rubble,” a scruffy dwarf said, and he puffed away on his pipe, smoke billowing from his mouth between his words.

“Heard there was even a child down there tha’ day,” he continued sadly, and Dís straightened her back at the notion.

“Where’d ye hear tha’?” One of the lasses slurred, leaning in close to peer at him incredulously.  She held a basket of fruit around one arm, and it tilted to the side and several apples tumbled over the edge.  As she cursed and bent to pick them up, the smoking dwarf pulled his pipe from his lips.

“Me wife, she works down there,” he muttered, and the others began whispering and muttering in disbelief.

“What was a child doing in the mines?” The first lass gasped, her face strained. 

“Don’t know, but I heard when they found ‘im, e’ weren’t breathin’,” was the whispered response, and several of the dwarves gasped, including Dís.  She felt her chest tighten and she looked in the direction of her home with gritted teeth.

“I didn’t know tha’,” someone hissed, and there were numerous low muttering sounds as the dwarves discussed it further with horrified expressions upon their faces.  Children were hard to come by across the dwarven kingdoms in the years of late.  It was rare for dwarves to mate, and even rarer to bear a child.  Losing a young one truly was devastating, for all of them, as a people.

“It’s a real shame, one so young getting hurt like that.  It ain’t right,” a long bearded dwarf in a knitted tunic grieved, and Dís clenched her fingers tightly into her hands, her mind working quickly as she struggled to remain calm.  The dwarves continued gossiping but Dís didn’t respond, and without so much as a goodbye she turned on her heels, striding quickly down the remainder of the path.  Her heart was beating furiously in her chest, and she could feel a similar pounding in her head as she rushed to get home.  Surely her children were safe and sound.  Thorin was with them, everything would be fine.  They were probably getting up to no good in the yard just like any other day.  She could picture her boys’ silly grins, and their young eyes flashing with excitement. 

But the closer to her home she traveled, the more worried she became.  She could see the broken buildings in the distance around the mine, and the steam still pouring from the centre of the site, and it filled her thoughts with doubt.  She saw several familiar faces, but did not pause to say hello, or even spend a moment to nod.  And when she noticed many of them pointing her way, and whispering with scandalized expressions on their faces, Dís quickened her stride into a full on run.  She didn’t care how worn she felt from her trip, and she didn’t pay mind to the ache in her back or the pain in her feet.  She panted loudly as she turned the last corner, running up the long path that separated her home from the rest of the village. 

Dís slammed her body into the front door, launching herself through the entranceway, and her eyes searched the first room for signs of anything amiss.  It was eerily silent, not a dwarf in sight, and the room was just as tidy as she remembered leaving it.  And then Thorin moved around the hall corner, his arm propped against the frame and his eyes wide.  He was staring at her with his mouth hanging open and it was clear she had given him a terrible fright.  Dís wasted no time with pleasantries, and she threw her heavy coat to the ground and stepped towards him frantically.

“Where are they, my boys, where are they?” she insisted and Thorin stared at her without saying a word.  She waited impatiently for him to relieve her of her worries, to tell her the two lads were fine, in their room, studying, sleeping, anything.   And then she saw Thorin’s face wilt.  His gaze fell and he let his arm slip down the wood until his hand rest limply at his side, and Dís cried out in horror.  She whipped past him and ran down the hall, her hair falling loose at the side of her face.  She refused to believe it, and it was not until she saw it that she did. 

Dís choked on her breath as her eyes fell upon her youngest son’s bed, and atop it, his body lay, completely motionless and bound in so many bandages and splints she couldn’t see a single inch of his skin.  One of her hands flew to her mouth and she lunged forwards, nearly collapsing at Kíli’s bedside.  Her palms trembled inches from his arm, and she reached out suddenly, placing her fingers at his neck, searching for some kind of life.  And then she sagged, her elbows falling to the mattress as she struggled to calm her nerves.

It was faint, but she could feel a pulse, and her eyes blurred as she felt moisture fill them and begin to drip down her face.  Kíli was so still, bruised, broken, and his chest was barely moving up and down.  It was clear he was having trouble breathing, even while unconscious.  Her hands hovered above his body, unsure where she could possibly touch him without causing more harm, and she settled instead for simply grazing the tips of his tiny, cold fingers.  There was no response.

“Mama?” a small voice called out from behind her, and Dís turned around and wiped her eyes, meeting the empty blue gaze of her eldest son.  Fíli sat atop his bed, looking towards her anxiously.  He was curled into himself, and seemed worn beyond his few years.  Suddenly Dís felt the remainder of her energy leave in one fell swoop, and she leant back against Kíli’s bed and slid down to the floor with a thump. 

Fíli’s eyes were locked on her, and she beckoned him over with a subtle movement of her hand.  The lad nearly crawled across the floor to her side, and then he was in her arms, his face pressed into her neck, and the little dwarf’s shoulders shook as he cried.  It was something Fíli had not done in years, not since his father’s death, and Dís embraced him tightly, wrapping her strong arms about his back as she slid her fingers into his unbound hair.  He was downright ragged, his skin pale, and his eyes bruised from lack of sleep. 

“Darling, when did you last eat?  Have you slept?” she asked, and he shook his head against her neck.  His body was trembling, and Dís rubbed gentle circles into his back.

“I can’t.  I’m afraid if I do, that it will stop again,” he whispered, his voice hitching as he sniffled and clutched his mother’s shirt tightly.  Dís frowned, and turned her jaw so that she could kiss the top of Fíli’s head.

“That what will stop?” she asked and Fíli took a deep breath before answering.

“His heart,” the blond whimpered, and suddenly he was a mess of tears, his entire frame shaking from the sobs that wracked his body.  Dís stared blankly over her son’s head, trying to make sense of what he was saying.  Her eyes were wide and filled with sorrow as she held Fíli, and she let her head fall back against the bed behind her.  Exhaustion was creeping up on her, but like her son, she was so very afraid to fall asleep.  Her eyes were drooping against her will, and she forced them to remain open and focused.  Her gaze slipped to the side as another form just barely entered the room and she blinked a few times to clear her vision.  Thorin looked at her for a moment and then his chin lowered and he focused instead on his feet, unable to hold her gaze.

“Dís,” his deep tenor rang out, loud and heavy above the sound of Fíli’s dissipating sobs.  He shook his head a few times, not sure what he could say that might make things even remotely better.

“I’m so sorry, I-,” he faltered, lifting his gaze towards the ceiling.  Thorin blinked away the tears forming in his eyes and he ran a shaky hand through his wavy hair.  All he could think about was his youngest nephew’s pained cries, and the sight of his limp hand sticking out from beneath what seemed like an endless number of rocks.  Even still Kíli’s body was hidden beneath wrappings, completely unrecognizable.

“Brother,” Dís pulled him from his thoughts, her voice surprisingly steady, and Thorin met her eyes hesitantly.  He knew she had every right to hate him, for being so careless, for ultimately being the one to blame, and he wasn’t sure if he could face that head on.

“Come here,” she commanded, her features serious, and Thorin stepped towards her with a guilt-ridden expression.  His dark eyes continuously lifted to where his nephew lay, and he found himself watching the brunet achingly, as he had ever since the accident.  He grunted when Dís reached out and yanked him down to the ground beside her.  His knees slammed into the wood below, and he waited despondently for Dís to crush his soul even further.  But when he looked her in the eye, she was watching him fondly, and Dís tugged him into her side and leant close to whisper in his ear. 

“He is alive, and so are you, and Fíli,” Dís asserted, and he could see she was struggling not to cry.

“For that I am grateful,” she spoke and Thorin collapsed against her.  He bent forward, his head dropping to his hands, and he heaved as his tears finally dragged down across his face.  He knew his nephew would have a long and painful recovery, he knew it was likely that he might never fully heal.  Óin had warned him, such serious injuries, at such a young age, could ruin the way he grew, the way his muscles and bones formed.  There was no way of knowing just how much or how little he would be able to do.  In just moments the lad’s dreams had been crushed beyond repair. And Thorin could have prevented it.

Dís listened to her brother sadly as her eyes closed against the dim lighting in the room.  It felt as though her entire family was broken, not just Kíli.  And though her youngest son was the only one physically damaged, Fíli was visibly shattered in ways she didn’t understand.  She could see it in his eyes, a deep set pain that might never disappear.  Thorin was an emotional wreck, clearly blaming himself for things he likely had no way of preventing, and she felt her soul cracking at the sight of it all. She could only hope they might manage to heal together.

* * *

His blood was boiling in his veins, his vision black as night.  And he was screaming.  Screaming so loud his throat felt raw and bloody, and his lungs were empty of air and aching beneath his bones.  His chest was throbbing, and he was sure something had pierced right through his heart.  Everything hurt.  He couldn’t move, and his body struggled against the weight that held him down to no avail.  It was so very dark, and cold, and he was so frightened, so terrifyingly alone.  There were voices, but they were drowned out by the noises that came from his lips, and Kíli’s head throbbed as his blood pumped painfully throughout his body.  Hands were touching him, fingers wrapped around his limbs, and he tried with all his might to get them off of his sensitive skin.

He was panicking, and he could barely breathe.  As fear gripped him and warped his perception he suddenly heard a faint sound.  He froze, his attention focusing on the familiar pounding, irregular at first, and then gradually, it slowed, and steadied.  The rhythm calmed him, soothed his soul, and for some reason it reminded him of his brother.  Kíli’s breathing stabilized, and his body relaxed as he fixated on the gentle thrum.  He was worn, from struggling for so long, and he slipped back into unconsciousness easily.

The next time he woke it was easier.  He was still sore, but the pain in his body was more of a distant ache, and he was so sedated that even opening his mouth was a struggle he did not wish to face.  His eyelids were heavy, but somehow he managed to lift them enough to see the room around him.  It was dark, but he could still make out the shapes of objects in the room.  His head turned first to the right, taking note of a form lying beside him on the bed, and he blinked a few times to clear his vision.

It was Fíli, and he settled so close to Kíli’s body that the brunet could feel his faint breaths tickling at his face.  Kíli wanted to inch closer and cuddle into the blond’s side, press his face to his brother’s chest, but when he tried, his body did not respond. He whimpered slightly and straightened his neck, turning as a dark shadow fell across his form.  His mother bent over him, her eyes shining, and Kíli opened his mouth in surprise.  Behind her stood Thorin, watching him carefully, and the older dwarf’s jaw was clenched uncomfortably tight, the muscles working beneath his skin. 

Dís carefully ran a thumb across one of Kíli’s eyebrows, and then she offered him a strained smile.  She was distraught, and had barely left her son’s bedside for the days he lay unconscious.  The worst of it all was that she couldn’t even hold him, she couldn’t lift him from the bed and walk him around her home, like she used to when he was a babe.  Her boy was too fragile, and his bones would only crumble further at her touch.  Instead she was able to do little more than touch the side of his face to comfort him.  Dís bent forwards and pressed a kiss to Kíli’s brow, and his eyelashes fluttered shut at the touch.

“Everything’s going to be okay my sweet one,” Dís whispered against his skin, and when she pulled away Kíli’s eyes opened again and he looked up at her desperately.  She felt her throat contract and had to pull away to keep her emotions in check.  The last thing she wanted to do was break down the first time her little boy woke. 

Kíli watched her turn to Thorin, and the two whispered amongst each other for a few moments, before Dís left the room with a tiny wave.  He watched the door slip closed longingly, wishing he could get up and follow her.  His gaze flew towards Thorin apprehensively, and after a minute the older dwarf walked closer to the bed and pulled a chair up beside him.  Kíli waited.  For what he was not sure, but when his uncle finally spoke, the words were like one of his worst nightmares.

“I am…disappointed,” Thorin uttered, his face lowered as he stared into his clasped hands.  Kíli swallowed painfully and his chest tightened as liquid burned beneath his eyes.

“You knew the mines were forbidden, how dangerous they could be, and yet, you still ventured inside them,” his uncle said, his gaze still hidden beneath the shadow of his brow.

“I’m s-sorry,” Kíli stuttered, and he squinted as his throat burned from the effort of speaking.  He was unbelievably hoarse, and it still felt as though dust from the mines filled his lungs.  Thorin turned towards him quickly as he began coughing and then his uncle was standing, and his forefinger was pressed gently against Kíli’s lips as he hushed him.

“Shh.  Kíli, shh.  I know,” Thorin uttered, and he looked into Kíli’s eyes and shook his head as tears slid down his nephew’s temples.

“Don’t cry.  It’s not you I’m disappointed in, it’s me,” Thorin explained.

“It’s not your fault.  It was mine, for making you go on your own,” he stated, searching his nephew’s brown gaze.  Kíli clenched his eyebrows together in confusion and Thorin moved his hand to the side of the brunet’s neck.  His skin was clammy and warm to the touch, and the older dwarf grabbed a bowl off the bedside table and lifted a cloth from within it.  Kíli flinched slightly when the cool material touched his neck, but it felt nice, and somehow managed to relax him.  Thorin continued moving the fabric across his skin and finally rubbed it gently over his cheeks, wiping away the trails of tears beneath his eyes.

“You do not need to prove yourself to me.  I hate that I’ve somehow made you think you must.  Your safety will always come first Kíli,” Thorin said and he gripped Kíli’s head in between both his hands, the cloth nestled against his nephew’s jaw.

“I am sorry, for whatever I have done to make you think I hate you,” Thorin held him in place, making sure his nephew was focused only on his words.

“I do not hate you, I could never hate you,” Thorin insisted, and Kíli sniffled and closed his eyes when his uncle pressed their brows together.  Thorin’s hair fell over his nephew’s shoulders, and Kíli felt secure, and loved, sheltered in the older dwarf’s embrace.  He wished he could reach out and wrap his arms around his uncle’s body, feel his uncle do the same in return.

All too soon the door to the room creaked open, and Thorin pulled away from him, taking the moist cloth away as well.  A moment later Dís was at his side, and she held out a cup and lifted his head, helping him sip the soothing liquid inside it.  The aroma from the rich herbs filtered through the room and he felt his aches beginning to fade away as his head became lightweight and airy.  He was drifting somewhere in his imagination, that same rhythmic sound comforting him and pounding deep inside his ears, in his very soul.  He felt a shift in the mattress somewhere beside his body, and then a gentle pressure against the side of his head, before he finally drifted away into dreamland.

* * *

The recovery was long, tedious, and immensely frustrating for Kíli.  He hated sitting still, and Óin had ordered him not to move from bed indefinitely.  Not that it mattered.  He couldn’t have even if he wanted to; the pain was far too great.  His legs were severely damaged, fractured in places that were tricky to realign, and his ribcage had been crushed by the rocks in the mines.  His entire torso was bruised, and even sitting up was impossible for the first few months of his recovery.  His arms had mercifully been spared, for the most part.  One shoulder had been dislocated, but that was fixed early on.  His right elbow was cracked, sporting severe bruising, and he had a clean break in his left arm, which was set and wrapped in a splint.

Thorin was a near constant presence in the house.  He hovered over Kíli’s bed, during waking and sleeping hours.  He read to him, tried to teach him, and engage him in whatever he could.  He was trying to make up for lost time, to reassure his youngest nephew and make sure he knew how much he was loved.  Despite the number of times Thorin encouraged Kíli, the lad still felt as though everything was his fault.  He felt like he was disappointing his uncle every time he forgot something from his books, and each day he spent lying in bed was like another mark on a long list of failures.

And It wasn’t just Thorin he was letting down.  He knew Dwalin dropped by every now and then to check on him, always in the evening, after he assumed Kíli had fallen into sleep.  The dwarf never came closer than the doorway, and he stood there often for up to an hour, just watching, with a guilt ridden expression on his face.  Kíli didn’t like when others pitied him.  Not at all.

The first day Dís had propped him up against the wall and allowed him to feed himself, though shakily, Kíli nearly cried in joy.  He was beyond excited that he was able to finally see some improvement, and he got a little overeager to speed things up a bit.  The first time he tried to walk he was alone, and he slid slowly to the edge of his bed, hiding his groans so that no one would come to check on him.  He let his legs inch over the side of the mattress, and they fell down like wet noodles, flopping about oddly.  He winced slightly as muscles that had not worked in quite some time struggled to keep his legs in place, even without the weight of his body on them.  There were still wrappings around his shins, and the loose ends dragged on the floor as he waited on his bedside.  He was sure he was ready, he was sure he could walk.  And perhaps if he showed everyone else, they might stop looking at him in that way he despised.

Kíli took a deep breath and inched even further, until he was just holding on, and then he let go, roughly pushing his body to the floor.  But when his feet connected with the ground he just kept falling.  His knees gave out, and his legs screamed at him as he buckled to the ground on his side.  Kíli let out a pained cry and reached his arms down to clutch at his shins.  He whimpered when he tried to move, and stayed there, shivering and shaking until his brother stormed into the room and collapsed at his side.

“Kíli! What happened?” Fíli asked as he helped calm him and propped his body against the side of the bed. 

“I...I j-just wanted to w-walk again,” Kíli stuttered miserably, and his brother sighed in exasperation.

“You can’t do that yet Kee, you’re not healed,” Fíli lectured, and the brunet lowered his head and bit his lip to hold in his sobs.  He felt his brother kiss his eyebrow then tuck his hair behind his ears, and the gentle touches were a startling comparison to the pain he felt elsewhere.

“It hurts,” Kíli hissed, unsure exactly what part of his body he was describing.  Fíli looked down at him sadly, suffering from a different kind of pain entirely.  The blond wanted to lift his brother, get him safely back into bed, and mend all of his broken bones.  But he couldn’t do anything for him.  He wasn’t even strong enough to pick him up.  Fíli clenched his hands into fists against the ground, frustration eating at him, and then he pushed his body off the floor and ran from the room to go get their uncle.

Fíli spent the rest of the evening at his brother’s bedside, watching as Thorin rebound Kíli’s legs while he reprimanded him for his foolish actions.  Kíli seemed to finally understand that his healing process could not be rushed, and he stared at the ceiling lifelessly while his brother held one of his hands.  Fíli could feel the pain in the brunet’s heart, along with a sense of failure, and a deep, heavy feeling of sorrow.  Silently he vowed to do everything in his power to prevent the other dwarf from ever getting hurt again.

* * *

The sun was set low in the sky, casting an eerie red glow across the Blue Mountains, and Thorin hurried to chop the rest of the logs outside Dís’s tiny cabin.  Winter was approaching, and finding dry wood might soon become difficult.  The dwarf lifted the heavy axe over his head and let it fall, watching as the log split in two around the blade.  Fíli was sitting a safe distance away, atop a wooden plank on the fence, his face turned to look in the direction of home.  Thorin studied the way his nephew’s eyes seemed steady and focused, on one spot in particular, Kíli’s bedroom window.  The curtains were pulled across, hiding whatever dwelled inside, but Thorin knew that it was something else that drew his nephew’s attention. The boy was likely listening to Kíli’s heart, as he seemed to so often in the days of late. 

It was terrifying to remember, those moments during which Kíli stopped breathing, and his heart slowed to a halt in his chest.  Thorin thought he might have gone, to join Mahal at the gates, and in his shock he had done nothing.  Nothing but sit and watch as Fíli suffered a terrifying pain Thorin could only imagine, while Kíli lay motionless on the ground.  Mercifully a star haired miner had found them, and revived Kíli, breathing air back into his lungs until he began to breathe on his own.  It gave them enough time to get him to Óin, to get him stabilized, and for that Thorin was eternally grateful. 

Thorin set the axe down, letting the handle lean against the stump in front of him, and he walked closer to Fíli and settled against the fence beside him.  His nephew paid him no mind and Thorin studied his expression intently.  The older dwarf was pretty sure he knew what it meant.  Fíli had not been close enough to physically hear his brother’s heart in the mines, so it must have been another connection.  There was only one thing Thorin knew of that linked dwarves in such a way.

“Can you hear it now?” Thorin asked, and finally Fíli looked towards him searchingly.

“His heart,” Thorin specified with a gesture towards Kíli’s window, and the blond dwarf blinked at him and nodded before looking back towards his brother’s room.

“Did you hear it that day, when we were at Balin’s?” Thorin pressed, curious to see just how strong his nephews’ bond already was.  Fíli swallowed and nodded again, and when he turned towards Thorin his eyes were suspiciously moist.

“I want to protect him,” Fíli pronounced, and his uncle hummed in acknowledgement and reached up to scruff the blond’s hair about.  Thorin knew his nephew was still quite young, but he was certainly driven enough to start training in weaponry.  If Fíli wanted to learn how to protect his brother, then Thorin would teach him. 

“Pick up a sword,” Thorin directed, and Fíli’s eyes widened.  He grinned fully for the first time in days and practically threw himself off of the fence, running over to grab one of the blades hanging from the side of the stable.  He fiddled with a large well-polished one, with geometric patterns etched in the hilt, and Thorin snorted and walked up behind him, holding it in place against the wall.

“Not those, not yet, get the wooden ones,” he ordered and Fíli pouted dramatically before grabbing the simple training swords instead.  Thorin started off by showing the little dwarf the proper form, and then he lunged at him a few times to test his reaction.  Fíli winced as their swords clashed together, and he dropped his with a shout and shook out his hand.

“Relax your grip,” Thorin voiced, as he watched his nephew pick up the sword again, this time holding it less forcefully.  He approached, thrusting once and Fíli moved out of the way then charged in his direction.  Thorin caught his foot with his boot, and Fíli staggered to the side, gasping when his uncle’s sword pressed up against his chest slowly.  Fíli frowned at the trick, and Thorin smirked before pulling away.

“Be patient,” the older dwarf spoke, and the blond took a deep breath and lifted his wooden blade again.

“Wait for your enemy to show his moves, and then block them,” Thorin guided, and the next time he lunged, Fíli was ready, his sword coming up to properly deflect the attack.

“Good,” Thorin remarked, and he saw Fíli’s eyes light up at the praise.  He pulled away from his nephew and widened his stride; glad to see the dwarf was a quick learner in battle as well as in his studies.  Thorin smiled fondly at his nephew, but not for long, falling back into his serious demeanour as he faced the blond head on.

“Again!” he shouted and Fíli’s eyes flashed as he prepared for the next strike.

* * *

Kíli’s first few steps were rickety at best, and he needed another dwarf at his side to help keep his balance.  He managed only to walk halfway across his room before he was forced to stop and rest.  It took a lot of perseverance, but eventually he healed enough to move around the cabin on his own, though he was unable to bend and reach for things like he might normally.  It was disheartening, and truthfully only the beginning of many disappointing revelations.  Once Kíli’s bruising had faded away to nothing, Óin gave him one last thorough look over.  The news was not what anyone wanted to hear.

“He won’t be able to fight,” Óin stated with clarity, his fingers pressing firmly against the brunet’s thin forearm.  Kíli’s eyes widened and he looked towards his family with frightened eyes.  Thorin was frowning, his expression dark and imposing and Dís stiffened at the words.

“What do you mean?” Thorin pressed, and Óin began packing away his supplies, unaffected by the darkening mood.

“There’s too much impact, his bones can’t handle the strain.  He shouldn’t use a sword, nor can he partake in any sort of activity that might put stress on his frame,” Óin explained and the room was engulfed in an uncomfortable silence.  Fíli sat beside his brother and grabbed his hand supportively. 

Kíli knew what the healer was implying.  It meant no brawling, no fighting of any kind.  No mining, no crafting, or hammering, no chopping wood or hunting.  And though Kíli did not yet know how to do many of those things, it didn’t mean he never wanted to.  The lad always imagined he might learn to fight and craft at his brother’s side, but now he would be behind in his training.  It was just another way in which to disappoint his family.

“For how long,” Thorin asked, and Kíli listened intently for the answer, hoping that it would be just a few months at most before he could start learning the sword like his brother.  But the healer shook his head sadly and crushed Kíli’s hopes with his next words.

“Indefinitely,” Óin said, and Dís failed to hold in a gasp.  Fíli’s hand tightened around his brother’s wrist, and Kíli stared blankly ahead. 

“There’s nothing I can do for this.  Fragile bones, will always be fragile bones,” the healer explained before he turned and left the room.  Kíli’s heart sank, and he refused to meet the eyes of anyone in the room.  There was nothing they could say that would comfort him.  Even Kíli knew, a dwarf that couldn’t wield a weapon, or even lift a hammer, was hardly a dwarf at all.

* * *

Kíli watched his brother learn to fight enviously.  He longed more than anything to grab one of the training swords off the stable wall and join in, fighting at his brother’s side.  He wanted his uncle to look at him with the same reverence as he did his brother, whenever Fíli managed to block or evade a particularly difficult attack.  Fíli immersed himself in learning the craft, and all Kíli could do was look on as he perfected his balance and technique.

It was a bittersweet moment when Thorin presented Fíli with a real sword, one he had handcrafted in the blacksmith especially for his nephew.  The blond dwarf was clearly overjoyed, and more than ready to begin fighting with the steel blade, but he kept his emotions in check for Kíli’s sake.  The brunet was clearly upset, and Fíli listened to the sorrowful thrum of his brother’s heartbeat, unsure what he could possibly do to make the other dwarf laugh like he used to.

Despite his warring emotions Kíli insisted on watching his brother’s first real battle, and he settled against the fence in the yard as Thorin prepped his brother for the fight.  Their uncle spoke clearly to the blond dwarf, and Fíli hung on to his every word, visibly nervous, but also incredibly excited at the same time.  They started with a few basic steps, until Fíli got used to the new weight within his hand, and then Thorin lunged with real intent, and the fight began.    

The first time their swords clashed together Kíli flinched and widened his eyes.  It was surprisingly loud, and he jumped with each consecutive hit of metal on metal.  It was jarring, and he winced and scrunched up his brow, his heart rate quickening.  The clanging of the blades shook through his core, and he covered his ears and closed his eyes in terror.  Suddenly he wasn’t in his yard anymore.  He was back in the cavernous depths of the mines.  He could remember the sound of the pistons, the loud crash of something falling from above.  He could feel the heat upon his skin as the forge exploded behind him, and the suffocating pain as rocks fell atop his body.  He was alone, confined, he couldn’t breathe, and Kíli’s body crumpled in on itself as he let out a high pitched keen.

Fíli jolted when his brother’s heart screamed out for him, and Thorin nearly sliced through his nephew’s arm when the little dwarf gasped and turned to Kíli in surprise, forgetting to block the attack.  Thorin just barely managed to veer to the left, catching only the fabric of Fíli’s tunic, and his nephew paid no mind to the action, instead running to his brother’s side, letting his blade fall to the ground with a clatter.

Fíli lifted his brother’s head and tried to soothe his crying, and then he pulled the smaller dwarf into his arms and did his best to calm him down.

“It’s the sounds,” Fíli spoke quickly, and Thorin propped his sword against the fence and knelt low beside his nephews, still recovering from the sudden end of their fight.

“They frighten him,” the blond whispered anxiously, looking towards his uncle for support.  Thorin sighed and let his body sag completely to the ground.  He sat beside his nephews silently, his hands clasped together, feeling more lost than ever before.  It seemed that each day Kíli uncovered a new obstacle that held him back, as though he was not already fighting a losing battle. 

Kíli recovered from the outburst a few hours later, but he was embarrassed, and the sad look his uncle directed at him was enough to make him burst into tears.  He felt absolutely worthless.  It wasn’t the last time it happened either.  Any time he heard the swords clashing together, his mind was assaulted with memories of his accident.  Thorin began taking Fíli far away, into the forest for his training, and Kíli was left behind feeling more useless than ever.

And worst of all, it wasn’t just the sound of metal on metal.  Any sound if sufficiently loud was enough to startle him into an unresponsive state.  On one particular day Dís dropped a plate to the floor, the pieces shattering across the wood, and Kíli had panicked and curled his body into a ball beneath the dinner table.  Ultimately Fíli had to climb under and pull him out, and Kíli was jittery for the remainder of the day.  Quick movements were sometimes all it took to put the youngest Durin on edge, and even going into town proved immensely stressful for him.  He couldn’t set foot inside the blacksmith without cowering in fear, he couldn’t go into the market without feeling claustrophobic and disoriented, and once the mines reopened, just the sound of the forges kicking to life was enough to have him running into his brother’s arms.

He was afraid of everything.

News of his condition spread throughout Ered Luin like dragon fire, and dwarves from all walks of life were telling tales of his impairment.  Kíli knew he was bringing shame to his family, and he stayed holed up in his room in an effort to hide from their pitying looks.  Fíli tried to lift his spirits, and though Kíli appreciated the effort, there was little that could be done to cheer him up.   

Sleep offered no aid, for his dreams were plagued with nightmares.  They ranged from simple retellings of the explosion in the mines, to warped, chaotic flashing images of his family members ridiculing him with disgusted expressions on their faces.  He was weary and weak, and the spark inside his soul had all but disappeared.

* * *

Thorin bent low over his worktable, carefully tying the string on his newest piece.  He didn’t often craft bows, but when he did, the same care and precision was put into them as any of the weapons in his blacksmith.  This particular bow was a special case.  It needed to be perfect, and he had tested endless builds to come up with a final product he thought might just work.  Thorin lifted the bow in his hands and pulled back on the string slightly.  It was far too lightweight for him, but that was intentional, and he smiled in satisfaction and set it back on the table when a dwarf stepped through the door to his shop.

He was a gruff looking sort, with a thick brown beard, and Thorin did not recognize him.  Still the two shared a nod, and Thorin stood to show him his wares.  The other dwarf perused his shop for a few minutes, taking a look at several different weapons, occasionally commenting on the craftsmanship behind them.  Thorin let him browse, and soon the other dwarf came upon the bow set atop the work table.

“This is your newest work?” he asked, and Thorin nodded and gestured for him to pick it up and inspect it closer.  It was a piece Thorin was quite proud of.  The style was very unique, slim, short, and more flexible than most.  Thorin had taken great care with the designs etched along it as well.  The limbs were fully decorated, depicting birds taking flight and flocking together, flying between swirling clouds.

“Beautiful crafting, but the tension seems off,” the dwarf commented, and Thorin nodded in understanding. 

“It’s for my nephew,” Thorin stated, and his guest raised an eyebrow for a moment, and then his eyes flickered with recognition.

“Oh, the damaged lad,” he muttered distastefully, and Thorin’s jaw tightened as he struggled not to do something he might regret.  He hated when the villagers referred to his nephew with such words, as though he was nothing more than a broken toy.  It was not the first time he’d heard something said, and it certainly would not be the last.  It seemed every dwarf in Ered Luin knew of his nephew’s struggles and wanted nothing more than to spread the rumours of his failures.

“I doubt he’ll ever have the courage to use it,” the dwarf muttered, and Thorin’s eyes flashed with anger.  He reached for the bow, pulling it forcefully from the customer’s hands.

“Get out of my shop,” he hissed, and the other dwarf eyed him in surprise, his hands still held out in front of his body.

“Get out!” Thorin shouted impatiently, and finally the dwarf hurried away, his eyes wide and fearful.  Thorin put the bow down surprisingly carefully and then slammed his fists into the table.  It groaned beneath the force of the attack, and did little to calm him down.  Thorin heaved in and out as he tried to control his anger, but all he could picture was his nephew’s shattered body, his tiny little hand, and his tear streaked face.  His hand inched into his pocket, searching frantically until it slid across the familiar shape of Kíli’s drawing.  Thorin pulled it from his tunic and looked at the scribble intently.  The anger left almost immediately and he ran a finger along the edge of the parchment fondly. 

He refused to give up, for his nephew’s sake.  His eyes flitted to the left, falling to rest on the tiny bow, and he pushed himself from the table determinedly.  It took him a few minutes to properly wrap the weapon, and then he packed up the rest of his things, and made his way towards his sister’s home.  His heavy boots trudged across freshly fallen snow, and he tugged his coat tighter about his body.  The air was cool, and the temperature would continue to drop for many days to come.  Thorin stepped inside his sister’s home gratefully, enjoying the feeling of the hearth warming his skin.  He stopped briefly to greet Dís and Fíli, and the blond dwarf eyed the parcel beneath his arm curiously, before following after him around the home.  Thorin found his littlest nephew lying beneath the covers on his bed, doing his best impression of a slug, and Thorin sat down beside him.  The mattress dipped slightly with his added weight, but Kíli did not move or acknowledge his presence in any way.

“Kíli, I’ve brought you something,” Thorin started, and he smirked slightly when he saw his nephew perk up at the prospect of a gift.  Kíli still didn’t turn his way however, and Thorin tugged on the covers slightly, pulling them away from his nephew’s shoulders.

“You can only have it if you stop this sulking,” he bribed in an attempt to pull the brunet out of his state of depression.  Kíli nibbled on a fingernail nervously and Thorin knew the boy was trying to make a very important decision, but he never was good at being patient.    

“Look at me,” Thorin demanded, and his nephew finally turned towards him and looked up at him from beneath dark lashes.  Kíli eyed the cloth covered item under his uncle’s arm and sat up gingerly.  It was clear he was still sore, and the colder weather didn’t help his aching bones.

“I know that you are struggling, that you are angry and upset.  You have every right to be. But Durins do not give up. There is always a way,” Thorin encouraged, and then he pulled the parcel from under his arm and set it on the bed before his nephew.  Kíli’s eyes were glued to the mystery item, and his body inched forwards but he did not dare reach out.

“Go on, take a look,” Thorin urged, and Kíli finally let his fingers touch the parcel, and he untied the tweed knots keeping its covering in place.  He unwrapped it hesitantly, occasionally looking towards his uncle for further permission.  When the cloth fell away, fully revealing the ornate bow, Kíli’s eyes opened wide and he could not look away.  His fingers hovered over the weapon, and they trembled as he finally made contact with the images engraved in the wood. 

“Do you want to learn how to fight?” Thorin asked, drawing his nephew’s attention again.  The little dwarf seemed confused by the suggestion, but he still nodded eagerly, even as he eyed his uncle in disbelief.

“Lift it, check the tension for me,” Thorin voiced, and Kíli reached out quickly and pulled the bow away from the bedding.  He was in complete awe as he held it roughly in position, looking towards his uncle and brother for support.  He pulled back on the string slowly, frowning slightly as it proved difficult and caused his arm to tremble under the pressure.  Thorin was watching him attentively, and his eyes narrowed when he noticed his nephew’s shaking arm. 

“Is it painful?” Thorin asked, and he reached out and held the brunet’s elbow steady, his large fingers searching for signs of strain against the lad’s bones. 

“N-no, just…hard,” Kíli said earnestly, and Thorin studied his expression, looking for any hint that his nephew was in pain.  After a moment he smiled in satisfaction and pulled his hand away, allowing the brunet to lower his arm. 

“Good, you can build those muscles in time,” Thorin assured him, and Kíli’s entire expression lit up.  His eyes flashed with hope, and the lad turned towards his brother excitedly.  The two dwarves shared an enthusiastic embrace, and Thorin was overjoyed to see a hint of that special spark return to Kíli’s eyes.

* * *

It was an agonizingly slow process, trying to teach his nephew how to shoot a bow.  Thorin was impatient, most Durins were, but it was nothing compared to Kíli when faced with the prospect of any kind of failure.  The brunet became easily frustrated when he was unable to pick it up instantly, and it took hundreds of dropped or misfired arrows for him to even begin to grasp how to use the weapon.  Thank goodness Fíli insisted on helping as well.  The blond was an enigma, perhaps the only Durin to ever show restraint to such a degree, and he spent nearly every moment at his brother’s side offering support. 

Over time, with Fíli’s constant insistence, Kíli was able to develop the muscles in his arms enough to hold the bow fairly steady.  That didn’t mean there weren’t other setbacks.  For Kíli’s fears still ruled his mind, and he lost focus easily, became frightened at sudden movements or sounds from deep within the forest.

 It was a particularly cold day, and the snow was piled so high that Kíli was nearly waist deep in it.  Still he insisted on venturing out to the forest and practising.  He didn’t want to give up now that he could actually manage to shoot the arrows.  He wanted more than anything to hit a target for once, so that Thorin might pat his head like he did when Fíli parried an attack.  His arm lifted and he held the bow as steady as he could.  Kíli frowned when his elbow quaked slightly under the strain.  His muscles were definitely getting stronger, but the cold winter air pierced through his skin like a hundred needles.  His bones hated the cold, and he winced slightly when his shoulder began to ache the longer he held his pose.  He let the arrow fly, and it soared into the distance, missing his target by several feet.  Kíli lowered his arms despondently and rubbed at his elbow as he tried to keep his lip from trembling.  Fíli wasn’t there that day to lift his spirits; instead spending some time studying with Balin, and Kíli missed his comforting presence at his side.  Thorin trudged closer, his heavy boots crunching the snow down beneath his feet, and he placed a hand atop his nephew’s shoulder.

“It’s alright, try again.  Take a deep breath first this time,” Thorin guided, and Kíli sighed, and nocked another arrow.  He breathed in deep and raised the bow, feeling a little more confident in his grip, but then a sudden rumble in the distance began, and Kíli flinched when he realised the mines were kicking to life.  Several birds screeched and took off from their hiding places in the trees, and Kíli shuddered as his mind was inundated with painful memories.  He tensed and felt tears coming to his eyes, blurring his vision to the point that he was forced to give up on shooting the arrow at all.  His arms fell in front of his body, the bow and arrow held limply between his fingers, and he lowered his head in an effort to hide the tears that fell shamefully from his eyes.  Unfortunately he couldn’t hide the shaking of his shoulders.

Thorin felt his heart ache for the lad, and he reached out and placed a single hand on his back.  He could feel the trembling beneath it, the tiny little gasps his nephew took each time he was forced to breathe.  Thorin groaned and pulled his nephew to his chest then held his other hand across Kíli’s eyes, feeling the tears against the palm of his hand. 

“I’m s-sorry,” Kíli whimpered mournfully, and he flinched once more when the forges roared again in the distance.

“I’ll…t-try harder,” the brunet stuttered, and Thorin closed his eyes and took a single heavy breath.   

“You’re trying more than hard enough,” the older dwarf whispered, and he knelt on the ground beside his nephew, ignoring the snow that seeped through his pants. 

“Kíli,” Thorin began, but at the sight of the brunet’s tear stained face he stopped in his tracks.  It felt as though someone had twisted a knife in his gut.  He didn’t understand, why his nephew had been cursed to suffer so.  Thorin wrapped his arms around Kíli even tighter and held his shaking body, waiting achingly for the little dwarf’s tears to ebb.

“Another day, perhaps,” he voiced, and carefully Thorin lifted the brunet into his arms, and began the trek back to his sister’s home.

* * *

As the years passed by Kíli’s problems persisted, in some cases even worsening.  His fear of the mines festered, and it haunted him in both waking and dreaming life.  He could not venture near them without freezing in horror.  And if he so much as heard the deep sounds anywhere throughout the Blue Mountains, Kíli seized up and lost his will.

He didn’t fill out the way other dwarves did at his age, because he wasn’t able to do what other dwarves did.  The only muscles he developed were in his arms, and even still they remained fairly thin and lanky compared to the children that grew up learning to weld and hammer in the workshops of town.  He matured slower, since his bones didn’t grow quite the way they were meant to.  And on a few occasions he suffered further fractures, whenever he happened to lose his footing and fall in a way that jarred a particular weak spot in his body.  He had other skills, like incredibly keen eyesight, and feet so light he could sneak up on nearly anyone if he wanted to, but he was unable to apply them to any kind of work and so they went unnoticed by the other dwarves.

Kíli stood out like a sore thumb in town, and nearly every dwarf knew of his ailment.  The adults gossiped endlessly about the pathetic little dwarf child that couldn’t muster the strength to even hold up a bow, and in turn their children whispered and created wild rumours to go along with the stories they overheard.  He received looks of varying degrees, sometimes pity, sometimes spite, sometimes disgust.  There were many too, that saw fit to laugh at him with wicked grins upon their faces. 

Kíli rarely ventured out alone, for when he did, the other children found him, and mocked him like watching his reaction was their favourite form of entertainment.  And though Fíli did his best to stand by his brother’s side, there were days he was unable to, or moments during which he was absent.  Still, Kíli was determined to be independent, and he often slipped away into the forests or rolling hills away from the busy village.  He was usually safer there. 

On one particular day Kíli trudged through the snow, walking all the way to where the small river winded between the trees.  He had his bow slung across his back, but truthfully, his body ached far too much for him to even attempt to find any sort of focus.  So he wandered, curiously exploring the wooded area.  It was so cold the river was frozen over and Kíli hesitantly tapped one boot atop the surface.  The ice cracked under the pressure and he stepped back in fright.  It was definitely not worth the risk, no matter how light-footed he usually was.  There were tales of folk walking across the waters in the winter, and falling into a painful and terrifying end.

Kíli shuddered and tugged his fur lined coat up around his neck, then continued moving along the edge of the stream.  It was eerie in the forest when everything was covered and hidden beneath the snow.  It made him wary, and even more on edge than usual, and he whipped around quickly when something crunched loudly nearby.  His heart skipped a beat and his breathing raced, and then he frowned when a few children from town edged out from behind some trees.  Kíli didn’t know any of them that well, since he spent so little time amongst the other villagers. 

“Look who it is,” a stocky lad, with short wiry auburn hair slurred, his grin widening as he looked upon Kíli with a menacing gleam in his eyes.

“Nice bow,” the boy teased, and one of the girls let out a giggle, while Kíli swallowed uneasily. 

“Don’t know why he bothers with it.  Everyone knows he can’t hit anything,” she jeered, and the rest of the dwarves laughed and inched closer to him.  Kíli scrunched up his face in annoyance and turned away.  He knew they were just trying to get a rise out of him.  But he had learned early on that fighting back only hurt him more in the end.  He didn’t feel like suffering another fracture.  It meant more time stuck in bed, and less time learning how to shoot.  As he began to kick the snow from his path one of the other dwarves gasped loudly and Kíli whipped around to look at him.

“Do you hear that?” the lad hissed, his green eyes wide and filled with fear, and Kíli looked around worriedly as his heart pounded in his chest.

“What?” Kíli whispered, his ears perking as the wind whistled through the trees.  There were strange noises all throughout the forest, and he felt his chest tighten in panic.

“It’s the mines!  I think…I think they might explode!” the dwarf shouted, lunging towards him manically.  Kíli cried out in surprise, and fell backwards into the snow, cringing when he felt several ice cold flakes sliding down the back of his neck.  The dwarves were snickering around him, and Kíli blinked up at the sky fearfully as his cheeks reddened in embarrassment. 

“Oh that’s right, how could I forget,” the dwarf’s burly form loomed over him, and Kíli tried to slide away.

“This one’s afraid,” he hissed.  Kíli’s ears burned and he glared at the group surrounding him as he tried to scoop the snow from inside his jacket and boots.

“He’s afraid of everything,” a red headed boy teased, and they smirked at his shivering form intimidatingly.

“You’re nothing but a coward,” one of them mocked him, and Kíli flinched at the word.  His throat tightened and he clenched his fingers into fists.

“I’m not!” Kíli shouted in defense as he got on his knees.  His fingers dug into the snow and he frowned as the cold began to eat away at his body.

 “Oh yeah? Then I dare you, come to the mines with us,” the brunet egged him on, and Kíli’s eyes flittered about nervously. 

“It’s….it’s not allowed,” Kíli stuttered as he tried to get back on his feet, but his boots continued to get stuck and he managed only in moving snow about on the ground.

“See, he’s scared,” one of them pointed at him and Kíli’s eyes blurred as they all laughed and shouted various insults at him.  His hands trembled in the snow, and Kíli shut his eyes tight and tried to drown out their voices.

“Shut up!” he shouted, but they seemed only to get louder with each passing moment.

“Bang your swords together!” someone yelled, and Kíli flinched when the sound of metal hitting metal echoed around him.  He whimpered and brought his hands up to his ears, then fell forwards in the snow and curled up into a ball.

“S-stop it!” Kíli whimpered beneath his breath.  He remembered people shouting, the smell of burning flesh, the feeling of crushed bones.  His ear drums pounded and he gasped as it became increasingly difficult to breathe.  He heard screaming, but it wasn’t his own, and Kíli’s eyes opened as he felt his heart beating faster and faster.  He saw a flash of blond hair, and then the swords suddenly stopped clanging together as the dwarves around him scattered.  Several of the children were running scared and shouting for help, and Fíli was throwing punches at whoever he could hit.  Kíli’s brother grabbed one of the other lads by his jacket and threw him down on the ice, slamming his head into the frozen river with more strength than a dwarf his size should have.  The ice cracked beneath the pressure and Kíli stared at the scene with wide eyes.  Fíli attacked the other dwarf in some kind of frenzy and Kíli gasped when he saw red staining the white snow around them.  His brother was shouting, but it was drowned out by the screams of others and the heart beat that pounded loudly inside Kíli’s head.

A dwarf tried to pull Fíli away in vain, getting knocked back by one of the blond’s elbows, and Kíli gasped at the hatred that gleamed in his brother’s blue eyes.  He’d never seen anything like it.  Fíli’s hair hung around his face in wet tangled strands as he wrapped his hands around the neck of the dwarf beneath his body with intent to kill.  Kíli wanted to reach out and calm him, tell him everything was okay, that he didn’t need to hurt anyone, but he was frozen in place, and could do nothing but watch.

“Fíli! Stop!” Someone shouted, and Kíli saw Dwalin lunging through the trees towards his brother.  The burly dwarf jerked Fíli from the lad beneath him and threw them both back into the snow just as the ice began to break into a thousand tiny pieces.  Another dwarf held the blond down as he fought to get up and fight some more, and Kíli felt his chest tighten when he saw the absolute rage in his brother’s eyes.  His heart was thumping furiously, and yet for some reason, Kíli was not troubled by the sight.  Even as one of the dwarves from the village lifted a limp body into his arms, one covered in blood and nearly unrecognizable, he felt no sorrow, and no shame.

* * *

Kíli sat on his bed with a blanket draped over his shoulders, and Fíli was slumped in a chair nearby with his arms crossed over his torso.  The blond bore a hole into the wall across from him as Thorin stood beside him angrily, Dís silent and pensive by the door. 

“You could’ve killed him!” Thorin shouted towards his eldest nephew, and Kíli shuddered at the tone of his uncle’s voice.  Fíli scoffed and refused to look anyone in the eye.

“I don’t care,” the blond uttered, his face a mask of indifference, and he rocked back in his chair rudely.

“Fíli?” Dís asked in surprise.  She had never seen her eldest son act in such a violent way.  He was always so reserved and patient, never one to behave so recklessly.  In the years of late Fíli seemed obsessed with mastering his studies, but never had he exhibited such vicious tendencies.  It was true he sometimes acted possessed when he fought with his swords, lunging at his opponent with calculated precision.  But to truly strike to kill?  That she had never seen from him before. 

“He deserved it,” Fíli hissed, his upper lip curling in distaste.  Dís gasped at the comment, and Thorin raised his jaw in surprise.  He was shocked by the vehemence laced in his nephew’s deepening voice.

“I’d do it again,” Fíli claimed, his gaze lowering to his arms, and he let the chair slam down against the ground.

“Fíli…you don’t mean that,” Dís whispered as she raised a hand to her mouth in disbelief.  Fíli frowned further and whipped his chin up, turning his hateful gaze towards her.  She jolted at the intensity in his eyes.

“They tried to hurt Kíli!  They were shouting at him, they were frightening him!”  Fíli cried, and he unlaced his arms and gestured towards his brother desperately, one hand grasping at his chest painfully.

“They were laughing at him,” he stumbled over the words, his voice hitching ever so slightly as he spoke.  Fíli’s arm hung loosely in the air as his family looked towards him, and he let it fall to his side as his anger began to fade. 

“I’ll kill anyone that tries to hurt my brother, anyone that ridicules him like that,” Fíli voiced, and he turned to look towards Kíli with a determined expression.  The brunet blinked at him openly and he clenched his fingers in the blanket around his body as he held the other dwarf’s penetrating gaze.  The room was suddenly silent, and all Kíli could hear was a gentle comforting thrum, the same one he always heard when his brother was near.  Thorin shifted in his place, and stepped closer to his eldest nephew.

“Okay,” he declared, and the other three dwarves glanced towards him in surprise.  Thorin reached out and placed a hand on his nephew’s shoulder.

“I cannot reprimand you for defending your kin,” he stated, and Dís gaped at him.

“Thorin!” she barked, clearly upset that her brother was encouraging Fíli’s actions.  He raised a single eyebrow and turned towards her slowly.

“Any Durin would do the same,” Thorin claimed, and the two shared a long look.  Thorin offered her a pointed nod and she let out a frustrated noise, finally conceding the fact that her brother was right.  Thorin stood straight and let out a long sigh, moving his hand to the blond’s cheek.  He gripped his jaw and nudged him deliberately.

“But for your own sake, and for Kíli’s too, try not to kill anyone,” Thorin implored his nephew, and Fíli scrunched his brow together at the words.

“He needs you by his side, not in a prison cell,” the older dwarf explained, and then he backed away as the blond nodded in understanding.  Thorin and Dís left together, discussing how to extinguish the spreading tales of Fíli’s rage and their mother sent a final worried glance towards both her sons before shutting the door behind them.  Kíli listened as their voices faded away, and then he startled slightly as the bed dipped at his side.  Fíli looked at him thoroughly, his gaze travelling from his brother’s eyes down to his chest and back again.  He smiled slightly and reached out a hand, combing his fingers through the brunet’s hair gently.

“I’m sorry if I scared you today,” Fíli whispered, and Kíli opened his mouth in surprise.

“You didn’t!” the younger of the two swore, and he leaned forwards so quickly that the blanket fell from his shoulders.

“You could never frighten me Fíli,” Kíli insisted, his eyes gleaming with honesty, and the blond ducked his head and laughed lightly before reaching to wrap the blanket around his brother’s shoulders again.

“I’m glad,” Fíli stated, and he tugged his brother close to his side and pressed an innocent kiss to the side of his head.  Kíli felt heat fill his cheeks and he turned his nose to his brother’s neck, his eyelashes grazing against the blond’s skin.  Fíli’s arm was warm where it was positioned across his waist, and Kíli took comfort in it, snuggling closer to the other dwarf’s body.  In that moment the brunet didn’t care what anyone else thought of him, he didn’t care that his bones were weak or that he might never amount to anything.  He was just happy he had Fíli at his side.

* * *

Throughout the years Fíli and Kíli only grew closer.  Their bond was unbreakable, and they spent nearly every moment together.  The blond developed a reputation for aggression, especially when it came to his brother, and the two dwarves were rarely disturbed while at each other’s sides.  It became a tradition for Fíli to take his brother away from the villages and deep into the forests on the days the great pistons in the mines were working.  They would escape the noises, and not stop until the thundering beneath their feet was no longer noticeable.  It put Kíli’s mind at ease, and he was better able to focus and relax.

It got them away from the whispers as well.  Though no one ever physically attacked the brothers, things were often said as they passed other villagers, words that made Fíli’s shoulders tighten as his frame became overcome with anger.  Several times Kíli was forced to restrain him or calm him down, and though Fíli would ease back at his brother’s insistence, he still wished nothing more than to slice the heads off any who spoke ill of his brother.

On an evening late in spring, Kíli led them through the low branches, his feet barely making a sound as he stepped into the underbrush.  Fíli watched him fondly, noticing the way his brother’s ears picked up every sound in the forest, how his eyes latched on to every movement no matter how small.  Kíli drew his bow and nocked an arrow, aiming up into the branches at something Fíli could not see.  The blond waited patiently as his brother stared unblinkingly into the trees above.  Fíli listened to his heart beating, and latched on to the sound of the second one thrumming in tandem along with it.  A grin formed on his face as some stray hairs stirred atop Kíli’s brow, and then suddenly his brother released the arrow.  Moments later a bird fell to the ground, and the brunet lowered his bow with a wide smile and moved to claim his kill. 

The two ate dinner side by side, a fire flickering and crackling a few feet away.  It provided a pleasant warmth against the evening chill, and cast a faint orange glow across their skin.  When Kíli sat back with a sigh and wiped his sleeve across his mouth in satisfaction Fíli reached out and grabbed one of his hands.

 “Do you hear that Kíli?” Fíli muttered, drawing his brother’s full attention.  Kíli’s eyes narrowed and he listened frantically for a moment, fearing that perhaps the mines were rumbling in the distance.  But as he listened, his ears did not pick up the familiar deep sounds the mines projected through the earth.  Instead there was another sound, equally familiar, perhaps even more so.  It was the steady beating of his heart, and then two.  He had noticed it before, many times, but never paid it much attention.  He liked the comfort it gave him, the way it soothed his soul.

“Why are there two?” Kíli asked, his eyes meeting his brother’s clear blue gaze.  Fíli grinned, his eyes crinkling slightly at the sides, and his well-trimmed braids lifted at the edges of his lips.

“Is it…is it yours?” Kíli pressed, though he was certain he already knew the answer.  Perhaps he had always known it somewhere deep inside.  Fíli’s grip tightened around his fingers and the blond lifted his hand and held it close to his chest.

“Just know…that I hear two as well, when you are at my side,” Fíli spoke softly, and then he brought his brother’s hand up to his lips and kissed his knuckles in reverence. The two were caught by one another’s eyes, and Kíli knew his brother’s heart was racing alongside his own.  The brunet let his head fall to Fíli’s shoulder, and his attention did not waver from the sound of his brother’s heart for the rest of the night.

* * *

Whenever Kíli became frightened, instead of allowing his fear to cripple him, he turned into his soul, searching for the sound of his brother’s heart beating.  It masked the sounds that scared him, and with his brother’s help, he was able to steady his shaking limbs, and control the destination of his arrows.  There were moments of course, that Kíli became shaky.  The sounds of the mines still often managed to break his focus and inundate his mind with flashbacks.  But he was able to venture into the blacksmiths and to the fighting grounds without succumbing to the sounds of metal clashing against metal. 

He revelled in his success and wanted to join his family on their journeys to the other dwarven kingdoms.  He wanted to help them hunt and push back the orcs that sometimes ventured into their lands.  But always, Thorin refused.  He was deemed unpredictable, and beyond that, he was far too fragile.  Even though he had not suffered a break in his bones for many years, there was always that chance.  But when word began to spread, that Thorin meant to venture far to the east, across the misty mountains and to the Lonely Mountain, Kíli refused to be cast aside.  He fought with Thorin at every chance, desperate to show his worth not only to his family, but also to himself.

“Kíli, even if you can mask your shaking, it is far too risky.  One strike to your body and you could fall,” Thorin tried to explain, and he reached out towards his youngest nephew, but the brunet flinched from his touch.

“If I don’t get hit, I won’t get hurt,” Kíli asserted.

“I’m fast, and my eyesight is better than any in the Blue Mountains.  I can avoid enemies, and help from the shadows,” the brunet spoke so quickly that his words began slurring together.

“Please uncle,” Kíli pleaded, his eyes growing wet as he stared at the older dwarf.

“I know I’m a disappointment to you, no matter what you say.  I’ll never be a warrior, or a blacksmith, or a miner,” he continued and Thorin’s eyes widened and he shook his head slightly from side to side.  Kíli did not let him speak, holding up his hand to stop him.

“This is all I have,” Kíli begged, and he withdrew slightly when he noticed his brother’s form lurking from the side.   Thorin seemed frozen in place, and he could not think of anything to say that might soothe his nephew, and resorted to simply shaking his head again.  The brunet looked stricken, and he fell back towards Fíli’s comforting embrace.  Tears dripped from Kíli’s dark eyes, and then the lad turned, and Thorin’s gaze lowered as his nephews disappeared from sight.  The older dwarf thrust his sword into the soil beneath his feet and leant heavily on the holster, warring between his mixed emotions.  All he had ever wanted for his family was happiness and good health, a safe haven from the destruction the world had brought upon him.  But when he looked at his youngest nephew, all he saw was a caged bird.  One who’s wings had been clipped at far too young an age.  Kíli desperately wanted to fly away, but he couldn’t, no matter how hard he struggled.  And now Thorin was the one holding him back.  

* * *

No matter what, nothing stopped the nightmares.  They were unpredictable and attacked Kíli in the moment he was weakest, while fast asleep.  He couldn’t escape them, couldn’t run away from the tortures that assaulted him in them, and even Fíli’s heart beat was unable to break him free of his dreams.  He had to suffer through them, listen as his uncle reminded him of all of his failures, until the pain was enough to startle him awake gasping desperately for air.  His only mercy was that Fíli was always there when he woke. 

Kíli’s eyes opened to meet deep blue, and the fingers that touched his face were gentle and warm.  It took him a moment to recognize his surroundings, and he scrunched his eyes shut and gritted his teeth to ward off the images still vivid in his head.  Fíli’s heart drummed in his mind, and the brunet’s breathing slowed as he relaxed beneath his brother’s body.

“You’ve had a nightmare again, my nadadith,” Fíli whispered against his face, and then the blond pressed his lips beneath Kíli’s eyebrow.  The younger of the two let out a pained noise and took a shaky breath as he felt the gentle pressure upon his skin.

“He won’t take me along, I know it,” Kíli gasped, and his brother massaged the sides of his neck rhythmically as he listened.

“He thinks me useless,” the brunet spat, recalling the way his uncle’s eyes often fixated on him in dark and sad way.  Thorin watched him just like the rest of the dwarves did, with pity, and disgust.

“That’s not true,” Fíli assured him as he always had.  Some things never changed, and even on the cusp of adulthood the blond was still whisking away his brother’s woes with simple but sure words.  Kíli gazed at him lovingly, and he wished more than anything that he could join Fíli on the quest to reclaim Erebor.  The blond seemed to understand the path his thoughts were heading and he tangled his thick fingers in his brother’s long hair.

“You’re coming with me, or I’m not going,” Fíli swore, and his lips dragged across his brother’s brow before he peppered Kíli’s nose with tiny little kisses.  The brunet sighed peacefully at the tender touches against his skin, and felt his face heating up from the attention.  It was incredible how much Fíli’s personality changed depending on his surroundings.  In battle he was vicious and wild.  His hands were strong enough to crush bones or tear an enemy limb from limb.  But with Kíli, he was the opposite.  Gentle, and cautious, like his brother was an exquisite sculpture that needed to be handled with the utmost care.

Kíli latched on to his form when Fíli lifted him from the bed then rolled him on top of his body.  It allowed the brunet to set his ear right next to his brother’s heart, and though he was able to hear it regardless, the vibration beneath his face provided additional security, and the rise and fall lured him back to sleep.

* * *

Thorin was lifting the remainder of his supplies into a wagon the morning he meant to travel north.  There was a meeting with the dwarf lords from across the lands, to further discuss who might travel with his chosen group to the East.  He was weary and sore, not an ideal state before a long journey, and he stretched out his back when the last bag was loaded into the cart.  He was not ready to leave, not mentally.   That morning Thorin had managed to say goodbye to his sister, but he had not seen his nephews in several days, as they spent so much of their time away from the villages.  He hoped the two might at the very least show up to see him off, but to be honest; he could not blame them for staying hidden.  It troubled him, for it was likely he would make his way straight to the Shire after the meeting took place, and that he might not see the lads for quite some time, or ever again.

Thorin shuddered at the thought.  He knew the journey could prove perilous, and truthfully he wanted nothing more than to take his family with him, but he also did not want to put any of them in danger.  And though he had asked his eldest nephew to join him as a member of his company, he was not naïve enough to think he might come alone.  Thorin knew that when he arrived in the Shire, neither of his nephews would be there to greet him, and the thought saddened him greatly.  There was so much he wanted to say to them, so much he wanted to fix, but he had no time.  He was already running late.  It was his own fault for not acting, for waiting for the boys to come to him instead of searching them out. 

Thorin ran his fingers through his hair, now beginning to gray from a combination of stress and age.  He pushed away from the wagon and prepared to board, taking one last look down the path that led to his sister’s home, hoping that perhaps his nephews might appear at the last moment, but he could not see them anywhere in sight.  Thorin sighed heavily and he turned, stepping up into the wagon and double checking he had everything he needed.  His hand slid like clockwork into his tunic pocket, and he felt the aged parchment stored there slide between his fingers.  It was enough to will him on, and Thorin yanked on the reigns, guiding the ponies to begin walking. 

The cart wobbled back and forth down the path and soon the gaps between homes widened, and Thorin reached the end of their small village.  He sat up straight, and tried to keep his attention on the road ahead, even as his heart sank the further he travelled.  He was so focused that he nearly missed the yells directed at him, but it was impossible not to see the wildly flailing arms.

“Uncle!  Uncle wait!” Kíli was shouting at him from the tree line and he ran fast across the terrain towards the tiny pathway.  Fíli jogged behind him, but at a much easier pace, and Thorin sighed in relief and slowed the ponies to a halt.  He dismounted, landing heavily atop the ground, just in time to catch his youngest nephew in an embrace.  He held Kíli gently between his arms, and cushioned his impact the best he could, then pulled back to look at his nephew fondly.

“I’m glad you’ve come,” Thorin murmured, as Fíli strolled up beside them and caught his breath.  Kíli seemed to find his wits, and he pulled away suddenly, clearing his throat with purpose.

“That’s r-right, I-, I’ve come to say something,” Kíli stuttered, and Thorin tilted his head to the side in curiosity.  His nephew crossed his arms defensively and looked towards his brother briefly for support, before focusing his attention on his uncle. 

“I won’t be left behind,” Kíli stated, his form standing tall and sure, and his expression determined.  His face was oddly serious, and his rigid expression seemed out of place.  Thorin very nearly laughed at the sight, but he held back and considered his nephew thoughtfully. For days Thorin had been thinking about the matter, and he knew Dís would not fight him about his decision, whatever it was.  The lads were nearly grown, and though still young in many ways, they were old enough to make their own decisions.  Thorin stepped closer to his youngest nephew and brought a hand up to his head, resting his palm against the other dwarf’s ear.  He could see Kíli’s gaze faltering slightly, his resolve crumbling, the longer Thorin went without responding and he felt it was time to spare the lad of his fretting.

“Of course you’re coming,” Thorin finally said, looking at the brunet directly.  Kíli’s eyes opened wide in disbelief, and a grin formed on his face as his uncle looked between the two brothers proudly.

“Both of you are, my sister sons,” Thorin claimed with surety, and Kíli was very near tears as his uncle pulled him and Fíli close for a hug.  He knew the two would stay together, no matter what.  Where one went the other would follow, and Thorin would never deign to split them up.

“Travel safe, stay on the paths,” he cautioned, after pulling away from the two and holding the back of their heads in a gentle grip.

“I expect to see both of you in the Shire in six weeks’ time,” Thorin proclaimed, and Kíli nodded enthusiastically.  Thorin studied the two lads, and touched his brow to each of theirs.  When he turned back towards the wagon it was with a much lighter heart.  Kíli waved at him happily as Thorin urged the ponies on once again, and the older dwarf sent Fíli a final pointed look.  The blond nodded as he wrapped an arm around his brother’s waist, immediately understanding the explicit meaning behind it.

_Don’t let him get hurt._


	4. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I've been uninspired, and also completely drained. But finally this story is finished. I hope all of you enjoy this long chapter. Now on to finish some of my others!

He wasn’t completely naïve.  Kíli knew there would be a few obstacles for him to overcome on the journey to Erebor.  However, he had perhaps been a little too optimistic about his ability to face them.  The relatively short trip to the Shire was easy enough for him to handle.  The two brothers set a slow pace and Fíli made sure to stop whenever Kíli began to show even the slightest sign of weariness.  But once the company set out together, they were not faced with the same luxuries.  Thorin set a brutal pace, rarely stopping throughout the day, regardless of the weather, and only setting up camp once light became so miniscule the dwarves were forced to settle down for the night. 

The ache in Kíli’s bones never truly faded.  It was always there during the days, a dull twinge running throughout all of his limbs, strained further by the repetitive position he was forced to hold while riding his pony.  In the evenings his body clamped up, the pain intensifying as cold air seeped through his bedroll.  Fíli wrapped around him during the nights when able, blocking out the wind and sheltering him from the cold temperatures.  It warmed Kíli’s heart each time he felt his brother nestle close beside him, and he couldn’t help but press his face into the other dwarf’s chest. 

Despite the aches in his bones, Kíli was asleep each night as soon as his head hit the ground.  He knew Fíli was taking his watch shifts, and guilt ate at his soul when he woke in the mornings to find no one had roused him during the night.  The blond made no comment on it, and looked well enough, but Kíli did not like burdening him in such a way.  He worried he was slowing the company, but it was nothing compared to when they were forced to carry on without the ponies.  Everything became ten times more difficult.  He could run, yes, faster than many, but it was endurance that he lacked.  The endless walking drained him, and the rough terrain made for difficult and very long days.    He saw Thorin looking at him often, no doubt wondering if he made a mistake in letting Kíli join on the quest.

Kíli struggled under pressure, and his first encounter with a real enemy had his heart beating furiously in his chest.  His bow proved entirely useless against the trolls, the arrows he shot doing so little damage to their thick skin that he was forced to dive into battle and do his best not to get hit.  He was shaky, and ineffective, and felt battered and bruised after spending time on the ground inside a sack. 

The first real test of his control came when the orcs began to chase them through the plains.  Kíli felt exhausted, like his legs were made of jelly, but he was still the best archer in the company and it became his responsibility to take down enemies out of everyone else’s reach.  He felt pressured as they waited beneath the rocks and Kíli was signalled to shoot down the warg above them.  The other dwarves watched him with intense eyes, and Kíli’s heart pounded frantically in his chest as he nocked an arrow and prepared to shoot.  There was a long pause, during which he tried desperately to quell the shaking in his arms, and finally he willed himself to turn and fire at the target.

His first shot missed its mark.  

Kíli was left paralyzed in place as the enemy lunged at him, and if not for his brother’s quick reaction he might have been torn in half.  He’d let everyone down, including himself.  When he was needed most he had failed, and he was worried that each member of the company was blaming him for nearly getting them all killed.  No matter how many times Fíli brushed his hair back and tried tell him otherwise, the frightening thoughts still picked at his mind. 

It was all downhill from there.  Even after spending two weeks resting in Rivendell, Kíli still felt as though he had not yet recovered enough to go any further, but he was determined to join his kin and stay at Fíli’s side for the remainder of the journey.  Climbing the rocks up the mountainside brought him a pain he hadn’t felt in years.  It was draining, and he knew both his uncle and brother watched him anxiously.  Óin must have noticed something amiss as well, for the older dwarf often pulled Kíli aside in an attempt to look him over for injuries.  The brunet struggled to hide away from his prying eyes, along with the rest of the company’s, and every time Kíli noticed Dwalin frowning at him it made the brunet feel a thousand times worse.  He didn’t want to be treated as a child, or labelled as weak.  He didn’t want everyone to worry about him constantly.  He didn’t want to be a weak link.   

When the ground started showing signs of frost in the mornings, Kíli knew the worst of his journey was yet to come.  The higher into the mountains they travelled, the colder it became, and each step he took felt like thousands of needles piercing through his limbs.  His shins throbbed and screamed at him to stop.  His arms trembled and hung limply at his sides.  His fingers curled into his palms to retain what warmth they could manage, and his shoulders began to slump and fall forwards as he slouched and ducked his head against the wind.  Everyone was suffering, but dwarves were by nature a hardy people, and Kíli was visibly falling behind the rest, even their burglar.   

Amidst the winding pathways Kíli was again struck frozen in place.  The rain teemed down on his form, drenching his skin even through the thick layers of leather wrapped around his body.  Tiny ice pellets pummelled his face, making his cheeks sting and burn painfully.  His limbs seized up, and he drooped against the rock wall behind his body, unable to continue even the small shuffling steps across the thin pathway.  Thunder boomed above him, and Kíli flinched at the loud sound, and recoiled as he was reminded of his past.  His heart beat sporadically, and Fíli’s gloved hand clasped the front of his tunic tightly and held him steady as his legs began to falter. 

Kíli’s vision blurred and he lurched forwards, nearly falling to his death.  He certainly would have if not for Fíli’s vice like hold upon his arm.  The brunet’s feet began to slide along the slippery rocks, and he gasped as a few fell away and an image of miners screaming flashed within his mind.

“Nadadith, focus, calm down, please,” Fíli begged beside him.  Kíli’s heart was jumping all over the place, and as he tried to hone in on his brother’s he noticed it was beating just as rapidly.  No matter how hard he tried Kíli could not seem to stop shaking.  As the rocks moved and shifted around him Kíli let out a tiny whimper and closed his eyes, struggling to keep himself upright.  He sidestepped quickly, without really thinking, and realized all too late that he had moved away from his brother instead of towards him.  The blond’s grip fell from his tunic, and Kíli watched in horror as his brother reached out in his direction with a loud shout, and suddenly he was separated from the heart that beat alongside his own.  He could do little more than stand still as a terrifying darkness washed over his mind.  Nothing was reacting, his fingers twitched against the rocks, the muscles in his legs contracted, and his chest ached as he breathed in too deep.  His head pounded, and he was shaking.  He could not feel, he could not see.  There was nothing but a gaping black chasm around his soul.  And then he heard it again, his brother’s heart. 

He was crying, he was sure of it, even as his brother clutched him tight to his body.  He could not be pulled away, and his fingers trembled as he clutched the fabric against Fíli’s back wildly.  He could not have shot a single arrow, let alone held his bow, even if it was a matter of life or death.  They were tucked away inside a tiny cave, and he felt Fíli’s lips on his skin, sliding over his neck, and down the collar of his shirt.  The blond peppered kisses across him, finally landing just over his heart.  The sound of it beating was so loud he could hear nothing else, and Kíli closed his eyes and let his brother lay him down on the stone.  He was not awake much longer, far too drained to do anything other than go limp against the ground.

* * *

The next time Kíli woke he was falling, and he was certain something broke as he landed against a hard surface.  He shouted and clutched his arm to his body, gritting his teeth against the shocking pain.  The brunet groaned and rolled onto his front, squinting as screams and shouts rang out around him.  He was confused and terrified as goblins surrounded the company, and when his eyes caught sight of the caverns around them he felt a chill run down his spine.  It felt like some kind of nightmare, getting thrown around the eerily lit pathways, along with the high pitched screeching sounds the creatures made.  His eyes roamed urgently, taking in the strange contraptions deeper in the depths of the goblin kingdom.  He felt sick, and Kíli thought he might pass out as he imagined his bones cracking and stretching upon the torture machines, his legs breaking again, to a point where they would be irreparable once and for all.  He knew he would be useless, and his eyes widened as fear consumed him.

Kíli saw Thorin turn towards him at the Goblin King’s threats, and the look of horror in his uncle’s eyes made the brunet cringe and glance away.  He was unable to hide his mental struggle, and he felt tears forming at the edges of his eyes at the knowledge that his fear was so visible to those around him.  Fíli surged in front of his body, protecting him from the weapons and whips thrown at them, and Kíli allowed his body to go completely lax.  He fell limply to the ground, avoiding the brunt of the goblin attacks, and prayed they would leave him be.  He was sure he must have looked like a cowering child, trying to hide beneath the covers at night. His uncle pushed his way towards him, lunging and trying to keep him safe, as Fíli stood over his back like a shield.  Drums pounded around them and his beating heart sounded alongside them.  He couldn’t calm down, he couldn’t breathe, and he must have been screaming.

He couldn’t make sense of anything, and didn’t recall much at all until they had found their way outside and Kíli was again in the arms of his brother.  He pushed his head into the other dwarf’s neck and tried to make sense of the blurring imagery in his head.  As the other dwarves argued he covered an ear and pressed the other to Fíli’s shirt, willing away the angry noises.  Kíli kept his injured arm tucked in front of him, hidden from any prying eyes, and relied on his brother to keep him upright and moving.  He felt the blond’s fingers trailing through his hair, and tried to focus on the rocking motion of Fíli’s body instead of the memories attacking his mind.  

* * *

Everything was a haze, and Kíli barely kept the bile from rising up his throat.  He felt so strange, nauseous and light-headed, but airy and weightless at the same time.  Fíli held on to him, and the brunet could feel his lips as they brushed up along the ridge of his ear.  Not moments before the blond had been roaring and lunging at orcs in a frenzied rage, his swords clashing against others while Kíli fell to his knees.  His breath was hot like a burning hearth, and his heart still beat quickly from the adrenaline rush that had yet to fade.

“Kíli, Kee, we’re flying,” Fíli whispered to him, his voice scratchy from shouting.  Kíli squeezed his eyes shut even tighter and leaned into his body at the words.

“Open your eyes brother,” Fíli implored him, and the blond’s fingers brushed the bangs from his face.  Kíli let his eyes open slowly, and he blinked at their surroundings, feeling even sicker to his stomach as he tried to grasp what was going on.  He could see a giant muscular wing lifting and spreading out to the side, long, sleek feathers swaying on the wind.  He looked beyond, towards the sky and hills far below.  It was surreal, watching everything pass by so quickly, so far away.  Kíli took notice of the other birds flying along at their side, and he gasped as the large wing sent a gust of air up against his face. For a moment he was elated.

“You used to dream of this,” Fíli murmured against his skin, his hand rubbing strange unfamiliar patterns along his back.  Kíli narrowed his eyes as he sat up gingerly, wincing at his throbbing arm.  He kept his face hidden from his brother as he pretended to look around them with interest, but as his eyes landed on his uncle’s sagging form and the distressed postures of the other dwarves he collapsed back against the blond’s chest.  It wasn’t what he dreamed of at all.  He got no joy from it, only a reminder of his failures, and more than anything he just wanted to go home.  If only Kíli was stronger, if only he could have fought harder.  He was such a fool to think he might prove useful on his uncle’s quest.

“I don’t want this, I never wanted this,” Kíli hissed as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.  The trails felt cool against his skin and he gazed sightlessly at the horizon as Fíli wiped a thumb across his cheekbone.  The blond clutched him tightly, watching as the spark in his brother’s eyes lessened further.

* * *

Even his first sight of Erebor was not enough to lift Kíli’s spirits.  He was glad his uncle was well, and that the rest of the company seemed relieved and relaxed for once, but the brunet still felt a lingering pain that made him withdraw from the celebrations of the others.  He huddled against some rocks, far away from the group, and tried to keep his heart rate steady and controlled.  Fíli’s gaze had hardly left him since they landed atop the carrack, and he knew his brother was watching his every movement for a sign of something amiss.  He had not masked his pain successfully, but the company had been so preoccupied with everything else that no one seemed to notice he was hurt.  However, now that they had time to rest, Kíli knew he would be an open book to his brother. 

Kíli fiddled with his sleeve, wishing he could push it back to better tend to his injured arm.  But there was no way he was going to risk anyone catching sight of it.  He didn’t want to be weak, not when the others were finally relaxed and relatively happy.  As the sun set and Kíli remained in the same place, not even rising when the dwarves prepared a small meal, Fíli approached him with a bowl and bent low to look him in the eye.

“Are you hurt?” Fíli asked in a low voice, so that no one could overhear.  Kíli looked up at him and swallowed nervously, trying to ignore the burning throbs running through his elbow and down towards his fingers.

“N-no,” he stuttered, his gaze flickering to the side as his brother’s eyes visibly narrowed.

“No I’m fine,” Kíli said again, in a much more steady voice, but Fíli reached out anyway to gently touch his shoulder.  The brunet flinched back before his brother’s hand even made contact, nearly sending the bowl in Fíli’s grasp flying.

“Leave me be!” Kíli cried out, and Fíli halted in surprise, struggling to steady the food as he wiped some of the spilled stew from his fingers.  The rest of the company glanced in their direction at the shout, and Kíli felt their curious eyes lingering on him. 

“I don’t need you mothering me all of the time,” he hissed and then turned away and pulled his hood up to hide his face.  His fingers were shaking and he grasped them in his other hand and held them still.  Fíli’s eyes widened and he worriedly looked the other dwarf over, but Kíli just huddled further into himself and pretended to settle down to sleep.  The blond seemed hesitant to leave his side, but eventually he put the bowl down and stood.  As he returned to the others, Fíli did his best to ignore the questions thrown at him by the rest of the company, but he was forced to share a few quick words with Thorin.  Fíli wasn’t blind, he knew his brother was hiding something, he could hear it in the unsteady rhythm of his beating heart.  But he also knew Kíli could be incredibly stubborn, especially when under the scrutiny of so many others.  There was no sense in pressing the issue while his brother was clearly determined to keep whatever was bothering him a secret.

The evening proved one of the loneliest for both dwarves on their lengthy journey.  Fíli stayed far away, keeping a look out post at the edge of the carrack, while Kíli spent the evening propped against the rocks alone, wishing he had not reacted in such a way.  The wind was cold against his body, and he barely slept as he gazed wearily towards the Lonely Mountain on the horizon, his bowl of stew left untouched beside him.

* * *

The few days spent travelling after finding a way down from the carrack were definitely some of the most scenic.  The weather was beautiful, and decently warm, and the rolling hills around them displayed a wide array of wildflowers in all varieties of colours.  The sky was clear, and the stars visible in the evenings, giving the dwarves something to focus their attention on.  Although Erebor was impossible to see from such low ground, all of the dwarves knew it was closer than ever, and it kept them moving and in cheerful spirits.  They lacked many supplies, having lost so much while inside the goblin tunnels, but managed to gather enough in the wooded areas to keep them fed and fairly comfortable. 

Despite their pleasant surroundings, a heavy tension lingered amongst the group.  Kíli’s mood was lower than ever, and he had not smiled or laughed in days.  He showed no sign of wanting to speak to anyone, and even Fíli continued to keep his distance.  Thorin tried to include his nephew, sending him off on tasks with the other dwarves, hoping he might return with a grin upon his face, but nothing seemed to help.  Fíli was growing increasingly worried the longer things persisted in such a way.  He craved his brother’s attention, longed for the days when Kíli’s heart sounded like birds singing and playing amongst the treetops, but he did not want to linger at his brother’s side when his presence was unwanted.

The company came upon Beorn’s home gratefully, glad for a place to truly rest their weary bodies.  The food was delicious, and all of them eagerly dug in, except for Kíli that is.  He did little more than push his food around on his plate, and Fíli watched him, feeling frustrated as his brother continued to avoid contact with him.  Bilbo managed to get the brunet to eat a few bites of honey covered bread, and Fíli nodded at the hobbit in thanks, but beyond that Kíli remained uninterested in nourishment.  He was thinning, after days without eating much at all, and all of the dwarves were beginning to watch him carefully.  It only made Kíli withdraw even further.

Beorn’s cabin was set on the edge of the woods, not far from the Great River of Wilderland, and the members of the company relished in a chance to bathe and finally get the grit off of their skin.  Even dwarves didn’t enjoy having a body entirely caked in dirt.  Kíli waited for a moment alone, and eventually he slinked towards the river once the other dwarves were finished bathing and fooling around.  He couldn’t risk them catching sight of his arm, and as Kíli removed his clothing he gaped in surprise at the dark bruising that covered his skin.  He had not had a chance to really look at it, and the sight was not a comforting one.  His elbow was visibly swollen and still throbbed whenever he tried to move it, and Kíli bit his lip as he tested the limits of the injury.  There was no way he would be able to shoot his bow, not while his arm remained in such a condition, and he wondered how on earth he might explain that without giving himself up.  If he was fortunate, he would not need to shoot an arrow until he had a chance to heal, but he hadn’t had a whole lot of luck lately.   

Kíli whimpered involuntarily as he struggled to remove the rest of his clothing, and eventually he managed to drop the last of his garments to the earth beside the river.  The brunet eased into the water carefully, and sighed in relief as the surprisingly warm liquid soothed his joints and cleaned his skin.  The few open wounds on his body stung as he ducked beneath the surface, but it was worth it to finally feel clean again.  Kíli held his breath and let himself sink to the bottom of the river, focusing on the clear sound of his brother’s heart.  Beneath the water he could hear nothing else, and it echoed in his ears powerfully.  It was strong enough that he knew the other dwarf was nearby, and for some reason that notion calmed him for the first time in days.  He could tell from the rhythm that Fíli was edgy and worried, and Kíli opened his eyes and looked at the rocky riverbed through blurred vision.  His eyes began to sting, and as he rose above the surface and breathed in, Kíli blinked rapidly and lowered his head in shame.  He was treating Fíli unfairly, pushing him away and lashing out at him for trying to help, but he just couldn’t bear the thought of appearing so pathetic in his brother’s eyes.

The brunet exhaled shakily and eyed his scraggly hair in disgust before reaching up his uninjured arm in an attempt to work out the tangles.  It was a mess, and near impossible to wash with only one useable arm, and Kíli tugged at it angrily and cursed his own weakness.  If not for his fragile bones he would never have suffered a break from such a pitiful fall.  As Kíli focused on his task he didn’t notice his brother approaching, and only reacted when the other dwarf spoke at the river’s edge.

“Want me to do that for you?” Fíli asked calmly, and Kíli froze and turned his gaze towards him warily, ducking low beneath the water to hide his body.  He had known his brother was close, but didn’t think he would be watching him bathe, and he wondered just how long the other dwarf had been there.

“I’m fine,” Kíli whispered, though he was anything but, and his heart began to beat rapidly as Fíli raised an eyebrow and began removing his own garments.  Kíli watched his brother with wide eyes, his mouth falling open as the blond removed his breeches and sat confidently beside him just at the river’s edge, letting his thick legs dangle in the water.  Kíli couldn’t help the blush that formed in his cheeks as he studied the other dwarf’s form.  He’d seen Fíli in various stages of nudity several times, but never so close and so…on display.  He’d always been envious of his brother’s sturdy frame, and he felt frail and wraithlike in his presence. 

Kíli turned away as the other dwarf slid completely into the water, and he continued struggling to work the grime from his hair with a single hand, trying to calm his nerves.  It seemed to be working for a few moments, and Kíli could hear the blond splashing water against his face and scrubbing at his skin, seemingly losing interest in him.  But when his arm twinged painfully as he forgot to keep it still, Fíli suddenly moved close beside him, lifting a hand to grab at his chin.  Kíli gasped as his brother pulled his head towards him, and he was startled by the fiery glare upon the other dwarf’s face.

“Do you take me for a fool?” Fíli questioned heatedly, his fingers tightening around his brother’s jaw.  Another dwarf might have been frightened by the blond’s intensity, but Kíli knew his brother had no ill intent, instead he only felt embarrassed.

“I can hear your pain Kíli, and I know when you are lying,” the blond insisted, pressing his fingers against Kíli’s chest in explanation.  Kíli felt moisture come to his eyes, but he willed himself not to cry, not in front of his brother.  He’d lost count of how many times he succumbed to his emotions, wilting into a pitiful mess of tears.  But as the other continued to stare at him with searching eyes, Kíli was forced to look away as a few stray tears fell down his face.

“Did you hide an injury from me?” Fíli asked, his grip lessening as he moved his hand to embrace his brother’s face more gently.  Kíli nodded regretfully, and knew he would not escape this time.  He had nowhere to run to, and he was sure Fíli would not step back so easily, not while they were alone and Kíli was so vulnerable.

“Show me,” the blond insisted, and Kíli pulled away and rose out of the water slightly, allowing his arm to come into full view.  Fíli frowned at the bruising and immediately reached out to take hold of his brother’s arm.  He held it delicately, careful not to cause any further pain to the swollen area.  His fingers traced the bruising and Kíli cowered slightly beneath his disappointed expression.

“When did this happen, in the Goblin tunnels?” Fíli guessed, and Kíli nodded as his brother pressed gently into the joint in search of a break.   

“I wish you’d told me,” the blond admitted, and Kíli lowered his gaze towards the water, lingering on the liquid that lapped against his brother’s abdomen.  He watched as the muscles there rippled slightly while his brother breathed in and out, and when Fíli pulled him close to his body Kíli leaned into the blond’s wet chest in return.

“Kíli,” Fíli spoke his name with such fondness, and Kíli looked up into blue eyes in astonishment.

“I can read you from a mile away,” the blond voiced kindly, and he lowered his fingers to brush just over the other dwarf’s heart.  Kíli was sure it was beating ten times faster than usual.

“I’m not angry nadadith, just worried,” Fíli explained, an entirely different intensity hidden in his gaze.  Kíli’s face heated as the blond’s fingers moved back into his hair and he felt their legs slide together under the water.

“Lean back and let me wash your hair,” Fíli requested, and Kíli let his body relax as the other dwarf pushed him gently down.  Fíli’s forearm kept him floating in the water while the blond began working his fingers through the long dark strands, pulling away the stones and dirt caught between them with ease. 

“You don’t have to pretend to be strong my brother, not with me,” Fíli mentioned and the two dwarves locked gazes.

“You _are_ strong, I know you are,” Fíli insisted and Kíli smiled weakly in response.  He didn’t feel very strong in that moment, but the blond’s words still made him feel a bit lighter inside.   

“I’ve seen what you’ve gone through, what you’ve recovered from.  I know how determined you are, how fierce and wilful,” Fíli laughed lightly and let his fingers settle at the base of his brother’s neck.

“I will never be disappointed in you, you can trust me Kíli. I mother you because I love you, and you are dear to me.   I don’t like watching you suffer,” Fíli explained earnestly.  Kíli’s eyes fluttered closed and the sun beamed down on him, warming his face and shoulders.  He felt Fíli shift beneath the water, and turned his head gently to the side as the other dwarf’s breath cascaded across his cheeks.

“Please don’t hide from me again,” Fíli requested, and Kíli opened his eyes once more to peer into his brother’s open blue irises.

“I won’t,” he swore, and he inhaled quickly when Fíli brushed a kiss across his brow.  Kíli felt exposed beneath his brother’s searching gaze, and he shrugged his shoulders slightly and tried to sink further into the water.

“When we go back inside you’re letting Óin look at your wounds,” Fíli insisted, and he pulled Kíli close to the river’s edge and tugged him down in his lap.  There was no room for argument, and Kíli slouched slightly but eventually slumped back against the other dwarf. Wiry hairs scratched against his torso and Kíli nibbled at the inside of his cheek as his heart pounded in his chest.

“Okay,” he muttered, finally letting himself relax as Fíli worked the kinks out of his shoulders and neck.  He felt secure despite his nudity, and as the blond’s arms reached around his body and came to rest above his belly Kíli closed his eyes and sank completely into the older dwarf’s embrace.    It was nice to have some time alone with his brother, away from everyone else, away from any judgemental eyes, and he barely felt the throbbing in his arm as Fíli pressed another kiss beneath his ear and hugged him tight.   

* * *

Kíli pouted in the large wooden chair as Óin prodded at his arm with a frown.  The healer was visibly angry with him, treating him much more roughly than usual.  Kíli flinched frequently at the jabbing motions against his elbow and Thorin loomed over him with an unreadable expression on his face. 

“You are bruised,” Óin muttered, and Kíli rolled his eyes slightly at the statement.  Any idiot could have spotted the bruising running down the length of his arm.  It was dark purple and stood out on his skin like a sore thumb.  Óin only tugged harder at his arm as he began wrapping bandages around him to hold everything in place.

“It was likely only a sprain, but you’re lucky this is healing as well as it is, you should have come to me straight away,” Óin seethed, sending a pointed glare in Kíli’s direction for good measure.  The brunet slouched beneath the scrutiny and looked up towards his uncle with unsure eyes, but Thorin remained silent as the healer finished up and pulled away.

“There were many places in which your bones never fully mended.  You need to rest, go easy on your body,” Óin insisted as he stood and folded his arms across his chest.

“Be careful of this arm, it won’t take much to break again,” the older dwarf intoned, with a single nod towards the bandaged lump tied to Kíli’s side.  As Óin left the room the brunet sat up gingerly and waited warily for his uncle to chastise him some more.  Thorin pushed away from the support beam he leant against and stepped in front of him but no admonishing words came.  It seemed like the stoic dwarf stared down at him for ages, and Kíli was genuinely surprised when his uncle knelt in front of him and touched his cheek in concern.

“Do you wish to continue?” he drawled, his blue eyes studying Kíli’s face for any sign of uncertainty.

“There is no shame if your answer is no,” he insisted, and Kíli opened and closed his mouth a few times before lowering his gaze.  His heart constricted as he realised just how much he was endangering the rest of the company.  His weakness was holding everyone back, causing far more harm than he ever meant it to.

“A-am I….am I slowing you down?” Kíli stumbled over the words, fearing the worst.   Thorin sighed heavily and leaned back as he studied his nephew’s anguished face.

“No Kíli,” Thorin spoke carefully, but Kíli knew he was lying to spare his feelings.  The brunet’s lower lip began to shake and he tugged his arms close to his body in defense, just as the door slammed open and Fíli came charging into the room, his hands struggling to balance two oversized cups atop equally large plates.

“What’s going on?” the blond asked agitatedly, his eyes sending imaginary daggers in Thorin’s direction.  The older dwarf looked between the two for a moment and shook his head with a pained smile before standing back up.  He directed his gaze towards Kíli again and let his hand fall to rest on the lad’s shoulder.

“Forget I mentioned it my nephew,” Thorin voiced with a regretful nod.

“Rest well while we are here,” he suggested as he turned to leave.  He paused only to touch Fíli’s shoulder for a moment in greeting and then left his nephews alone.  Fíli watched the door close behind his uncle as he steadied his breath and then the blond approached his brother and pulled a chair up in front of him, setting the cups down on a nearby table.

“What was that about, I heard your heart cry out,” Fíli mentioned, bowing his head low so that he could see his brother’s face.  Kíli’s eyes were wet with unshed tears and his nostrils were flaring as he breathed in and out through his nose.

“Do you think I should stay be-behind?” Kíli croaked, his voice breaking away on the final word.  Fíli gaped at him and pushed his brother’s hair back away from his neck.  It was wavy and untamed after drying beneath the afternoon sun, and Fíli’s fingers dragged down through the long strands before grabbing hold of Kíli’s shoulders.

“No,” Fíli stated with surety.

“No, I need you by my side,” he admitted, placing his palm over Kíli’s heart.  Fíli stared at it for a while as he listened to the rhythmic beating, and when he raised his eyes to his brother’s the dark irises were watching him fondly.  It was the first time anyone had ever claimed to need Kíli, and the younger dwarf felt his heart surge with happiness.  Fíli smiled and shifted closer, the chair scratching against the flooring, and then the blond raised his hands to stroke the skin on Kíli’s face.  He let one of his thumbs lower enough to graze across his brother’s lower lip, and when he heard the brunet’s heart jump excitedly several times Fíli leaned forwards and joined their mouths in a kiss.  He didn’t push the kiss further, instead lingering on the exterior of his brother’s lips, tugging and nipping, pressing chaste kisses against his brother’s skin.  Fíli dragged his tongue around the edge of Kíli’s mouth, pulling away when the action drew a tiny gasp from the other dwarf.

“F-Fee, I…,” Kíli stuttered, and his face reddened attractively.  The brunet leaned forwards slightly and Fíli playfully pulled away for a moment before connecting their lips again with a smile.  He kept it slow, gentle, just tiny surface kisses that didn’t feel rushed or indicative of anything else.  Kíli didn’t need that kind of pressure placed upon him, especially not while injured and clearly stressed.  The next time Fíli pulled away he brushed their noses together and placed his hand back on his brother’s chest, listening as their hearts beat in tandem with one another.  It was the first kiss he had ever shared with Kíli in such a way, and Fíli could not have asked for anything more.

“Here, drink some of this tea.  Dori says it will lessen the swelling,” Fíli spoke, sounding slightly out of breath, and he pulled away and handed his brother one of the cups still sitting nearby.  Kíli stared down into the aromatic liquid before taking a long sip and closing his eyes at the soothing taste.  His skin still felt flushed, and when Kíli blinked at his brother through the rising steam, the other dwarf smirked at him teasingly, his eyes alight with mischief.  The brunet nibbled at his lip and took another sip to hide his embarrassment, but his heart gave him away regardless.   

When the two rose to join the rest of the company for dinner it was in much brighter spirits.  Kíli leaned into his brother’s side throughout the meal, and Fíli grinned as the brunet finally ate more than a few bites of honeyed bread.  Kíli seemed almost like his old self, teasing Bilbo light-heartedly and conversing with the rest of the dwarves.  Fíli watched him tenderly, and he casually slid his arm around the other dwarf’s waist as he crunched away at an apple.  The makeshift sling around his brother’s shoulder still worried him slightly, but all in all, things were looking much better.  His eyes drifted towards Kíli’s smile, and Fíli couldn’t help but imagine what their next kiss might be like, and what else it might lead to.

* * *

Once the company was sated and ready to set foot into the Greenwood, Kíli’s arm had nearly healed.  He was able to remove the sling, and though some bruising still remained along the edge of his elbow, Óin gave him permission to use it so long as he stayed careful.  The brunet gleefully picked up his bow and aimed at an animal, only halting when Beorn growled threateningly from behind him.  Kíli lowered it sheepishly and instead aimed towards nothing, merely testing out the strength of his arm.  He was shaky, but it didn’t hurt, and Fíli helped him stretch the muscles and massage the joint whenever his arm began to lock up.  

Fíli had not kissed him again, not on the lips, but the blond showed his affection in other ways as they walked with the company towards the forest.  He braided his hair in intricate patterns that made it clear for any dwarf who looked that they were beginning a romantic relationship with one another.  And he walked at Kíli’s side instead of in front or behind him as they set foot towards the forest.  Fíli often asked his brother’s opinion when asked a question, as though it was equally important to his own in determining his answer, and when they settled down to rest at night the other dwarf worked away tirelessly on a trinket and Kíli woke one morning with a wooden feather dangling at the base of his neck.   The other dwarves paid little mind, likely already suspecting that something had been brewing between the two, but they did receive the occasional leery glance or suggestive smirk.

As the dwarves stepped over the threshold into the Greenwood, Fíli reached out and grabbed his brother’s hand, entangling their fingers together tightly.  It was evident something was strange about the forest the moment they began walking along the barely visible path.  It smelled unpleasant, almost moldy, and Kíli’s head felt fuzzy and his thoughts more disoriented than usual.  He lost his bearings several times, relying on his brother to keep him moving in the right direction.  At night it was darker than death, and Kíli clung to Fíli’s tunic for fear of losing him in the endless black surroundings.  Not a single star was visible beneath the treetops, and during the day the barest amount of light leaked through to guide their way. 

The forest warped things, even changing the sound of their beating hearts.  To Kíli it was like a low drum, menacing and frightening.  It reminded him of things he wanted desperately to forget, and it took an incredible amount of mental strength to keep his body moving instead of cowering in a ball on the ground.  He was torn between listening to it to remind him of his brother and keep him sane, and pushing the ominous sounds away, pretending he couldn’t hear them at all.  Fíli’s mood began to sour the longer they spent in the cursed woods.  He became irritable, angry, and violent, even with the other dwarves.  When someone dared to shove his brother lightly Fíli growled and nearly drew his blades in retaliation.  Thorin pushed him away and Kíli grabbed the back of his tunic, struggling to prevent a fight, while the others shouted curses and argued amongst one another.

In the nights Fíli woke with an incurable lust looming in his gut.  He felt anxious.  His body itched all over and something urged him to act in ways he never would have otherwise. His fingers lingered at his sides as he turned to breathe in his brother’s scent, and one night it proved too much to fight.  He rolled over quickly and pushed Kíli to the forest floor, pulling a surprised gasp from his brother’s lips.  Fíli could scarcely see the brunet beneath the cover of darkness, only catching the fearful glint in his wide eyes.  It didn’t stop him from leaning down and dragging his teeth threateningly across the younger dwarf’s skin.  Kíli trembled and pushed his fingers against Fíli’s chest weakly in defense.

“F-Fíli, please, s-stop,” Kíli whispered, as Fíli breathed against his neck and held his wrists roughly atop the ground.  The blond warred internally as he struggled to take control of his actions, but as he leaned closer to the other dwarf’s warmth he groaned and pressed a knee between his brother’s legs and pushed them apart.  Fíli nearly growled, and he ran his tongue along the length of Kíli’s neck slowly.   

“You’re scaring me,” Kíli whimpered, tensing beneath him and Fíli pulled away in shock as his brother’s heart began beating frantically while he trembled against the ground.  Fíli stared down at him in horror, and even though he could barely see the other dwarf, he was sure there were tear tracks glistening on his face.  Fíli collapsed on top of him and let go of the other dwarf’s wrists, bringing his hands up to cradle Kíli’s head.  He was angry that the forest was controlling him, making him hurt the one he loved, and he whispered endless apologies against the other dwarf’s skin, barely managing to sleep at all.

When the spiders attacked them Fíli fought them off in an uncontrollable rage.  He took his anger out on them, tearing off their limbs and slicing through their bodies easily.  He enjoyed the feeling of his blades sinking into their carcasses, revelled in the sound that it made.  Kíli seemed distressed and worried, still recovering from the effects of venom running through his veins, and it wasn’t until Fíli was locked away in a cell that he began to question his sanity.  He wondered if his brother truly feared him, if he was slowly turning into some kind of monster.  Fíli began to doubt that Kíli loved him, for who could possibly devote themselves to a dwarf so rash and wild, and the blond wondered if their relationship was completely one-sided on his part.   He was sure his actions in the forest had scared his brother away for good.

Fíli watched as Kíli spoke to the elf woman with longing eyes.  Jealousy brewed in his mind, digging its claws deep into his chest, and his heart beat rapidly as the two smiled and gazed at one another like long lost lovers.  He felt Kíli’s heart speed up, and he knew the other dwarf was somewhat happy despite his imprisonment within the elven prison.  Fíli frowned and scratched at the stone wall crossly.   It was true they had never mutually declared their love for one another, never made any vows, but Fíli had always assumed that his brother felt a connection as strong as he did.  Perhaps he was wrong to think so.

Their imprisonment lasted for what felt like years, and Fíli began trying to block the sound of his brother’s heart from his mind.  It was impossible.  No matter what he did, how hard he focused, the rhythm always persisted.  He made sure not to look towards the other dwarf, and pretended to be asleep or otherwise occupied whenever he could sense his brother craving his attention.  He needed to distance himself from Kíli, as soon as he was able, or his heart would only shatter more powerfully in the end. 

Fíli ignored his brother as they were freed from the cells, not even checking to see if he was okay.  The dwarves loaded up into the barrels and Fíli barely glanced at the other dwarf, even though he heard a hint of terror in his nadadith’s heart.  It hurt the blond to treat his little brother in such a manner, but he knew it would be nothing compared to the pain inflicted upon his soul when he looked into Kíli’s eyes and saw him longing for another.  Fíli gritted his teeth as his barrel rocked violently in the river. He winced as it knocked against something solid and scrambled to steady it with his body weight.  The tiny space was stifling, even worse than the small jail cell he’d been locked away in for so many days.  He felt his breathing becoming erratic, and his eyes flashed open when he realised something was strangely absent.  He could not hear his brother’s heart. 

Fíli gasped at the strange silence in his soul, and immediately regretted ever wishing he could block out the familiar thrumming.  Even if Kíli did not love him, their connection was far too valuable to just give up.  Fíli pushed against the wooden panels around him, and prayed to the gods that Kíli was alright, that he hadn’t drowned or panicked inside his own barrel to the point of asphyxiation.  Scenario after scenario raced through his thoughts.  What if there had been a leak, and water had poured in around his brother’s body, rising slowly until he could not escape it.  Or what if his barrel had landed poorly in the rapids and burst open, Kíli’s body breaking along with the wood.   Fíli squeezed his eyes shut as his barrel rounded a corner and scraped roughly against something outside.  He was getting nauseous and was likely just minutes away from giving in and puking his guts out, when he felt the barrel slow down and jerk to a halt.  Not long after, the top was removed and he squinted and covered his face as light streamed inside upon him.  He hurried to climb out, and scrambled ashore, looking around frantically as the other barrels eventually reached the shoreline. 

He let out a relieved sigh when he heard Kíli’s heart again, and watched carefully as his brother climbed onto dry land in one piece.  The brunet was drenched from head to toe, but was moving, and Fíli forced himself to look away as the other dwarf stood up and stumbled around on the rocks.  Fíli could not help but remember what he had witnessed in the elven prison, and he wasn’t ready to face that knowledge head on.  The blond walked further up shore and began the arduous task of wringing out his clothes, watching as the liquid dripped down upon the rocks below his feet.  Everyone was grumbling and soaked, trying to shake the water from their beards and hair, and Thorin seemed to be getting into some kind of argument with Bilbo over his method of escape. 

“Fíli?” his brother’s voice rang out not far behind him, and Fíli faltered for a moment, and barely looked over his shoulder, before he continued walking away from the other dwarf.  He felt a hand touch his shoulder and shook it off, suddenly halting at the pained cry that came from Kíli’s lips.

“Fíli please, what have I done, why are you…,” the younger dwarf begged, and Fíli turned towards him with deceptively steady eyes.

“I heard it,” he muttered, and Kíli stared at him in confusion as he waited for his brother to continue.

“Your racing heart,” Fíli explained, and still Kíli glowered at him blankly.  Fíli ran a hand through his sopping hair and looked towards the other dwarf’s feet.

“Do you love her?” he asked quietly, and he heard his brother heave in and out in frustration.

“Love who?” Kíli hissed, and Fíli watched as the brunet pulled his arms around his chest and hunched his shoulders as a gust of wind blew by.

“The elf, the red haired one,” Fíli managed to blurt out, and the reaction was instantaneous.

“No!” Kíli shouted, his eyes wide as he stared at his brother in disbelief.

“Do not lie to me Kíli!” Fíli roared, and a few members of the company backed away at what appeared to be a brewing quarrel, likely violent if the fire in Fíli’s eyes was anything to go by.  In the end it did not escalate any further.  The blond snarled for a few moments but calmed immediately when Kíli’s heart wavered and began to ache.  The beating didn’t sound anything like it usually did.  It was strained, and sorrowful, and made him imagine wilted flowers and dying trees.  Fíli had never heard such an anguished sound before.

“Fíli,” Kíli whispered, tears clinging to his lashes along with whatever remained from the river water.

“Listen,” he implored the other dwarf, though Fíli was already focused only on his brother.

“Can you not see I am telling the truth, can you not hear it?” the brunet lamented, as he pressed fingers tellingly into his chest.  Fíli’s eyes followed the movement, before lifting back towards the other dwarf’s face in realization.

“You needn’t worry, it is your heart that beats beside mine, not hers,” Kíli swore with a small shake of his head. 

“When my heart races, so too does yours, and that time in the dungeon, my heart was racing not because of Tauriel, but because yours raced while watching me.  Haven’t you noticed?  That our hearts always beat the same?” Kíli breathed, and Fíli lifted his chin and turned his attention inwards.  It was suddenly so obvious when he listened to their hearts beating in unison, like they always had.  For some reason it never occurred to him before.  He was always so focused on the sound of Kíli’s heart that he failed to listen to his own. How could he have been so blind? 

“I love you, only ever you,” Kíli confessed, and Fíli stepped closer and held out a hand to brush at the other dwarf’s chin.

“I promise,” Kíli sighed as he let his head lean into his brother’s gentle grip.  It was then that Fíli noticed the pain the other dwarf was in.  Kíli was hunched, shivering, and Fíli could only imagine the cold he must have felt in his bones.  He saw the ache in his brown eyes, and the way he clutched his ribs desperately.  The journey had not been kind to his brother.  Life had not been kind to him.  Fíli stepped even closer and pulled his brother towards him with a shaky arm.  The brunet fell against him instantly and Fíli scrunched up his brow at the sound of the other dwarf’s erratic breathing.

“I could not hear you whilst in the barrel, nadad,” Kíli stuttered as he pushed his face against the blond.

“I feared the worst,” Kíli sobbed into his chest and Fíli’s grip tightened further around his body.  The brunet was cold to the touch, and his clothing still dripped continuously across the ground.  Fíli felt guilt weighing down his shoulders and he struggled to maintain his composure.

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” Fíli murmured against his face, and then he brushed their brows together and studied the other dwarf intently.  He wanted to kiss him, but it wasn’t the time.  He wanted the next kisses they shared to be passionate and loving, he did not want to have to hold back.  Even as he stood there Thorin was already shouting commands and rushing the company onwards.  No one wanted to move, but they had little time to waste.  Fíli ushered his brother along beside him, eyeing Thorin’s unpleasant aura.  He was worried.  He’d never seen his uncle quite so possessed with a task before.  But as he caught sight of his brother wincing with every step he took, his attention was quickly redirected.

“You’re hurt,” Fíli stated, running his hand down the other dwarf’s back in concern, but Kíli shook his head and smiled at him wearily.

“No, it’s just…the cold,” the brunet insisted, and Fíli drew him closer and tried to keep him relatively warm.   Everyone was irritable, even their burglar.  The dwarves kept their heads down and conversed little.  Not even Bofur wore his usual cheerful grin, his curled hat sagging beneath the weight of so much water.  The nearer the group came to the mountain, the harsher Thorin’s command became.  His patience was wearing thin, and Fíli did not like the strange gleam developing within his uncle’s gaze.

* * *

Thorin stood by a window and stared out towards his long lost home broodingly.  It had been years since the dwarf last laid eyes upon Erebor, and from his current distance, it looked exactly as he remembered.  He knew that was merely an illusion, that once he set foot at the base of the mountain he would see Dale, burned to the ground and left in ruin. He knew he would find much the same within his old beloved home.  But it only made him feel more anxious and determined to take back what was rightfully his.

Thorin snorted angrily and pulled his gaze away, glancing through the cabin towards the rest of the company.  They were acting foolishly, sucking up the so called generosity of men as they relaxed in Lake-town.  Thorin did not have the patience for it.  He wanted to get on already, to find the location of the hidden door and make sure they did not arrive too late.  He would not let this journey go to waste!

But the company was weak, weary, and regrettably needed rest.  His eyes lingered on his nephews as they settled in for the night.  The two dwarves seemed closer than ever, and Thorin knew Fíli’s interest in the quest was wavering in favour of his brother’s health.  The blond looked only towards Kíli, and never towards their destination.  Kíli was a weakness, a threat to them all, and Thorin regretted allowing his youngest nephew to ever come along.  He served only as a distraction.  Thorin frowned as he watched the two brothers share a lingering kiss, feeling distrustful of their dedication to the task at hand.  He gritted his teeth and forced himself to look elsewhere, shoving his hands absently into his pockets.  Thorin paused as his fingers brushed up against the parchment he still carried hidden away.  It had remained with him throughout the entire trip, and though the image upon it was blurred unrecognizably from water, and the paper crinkled and torn, it still served as a reminder of his wrongdoings.

Thorin took a shaky breath and calmed as he leaned against the wall in support.  He tried not to let his anguish show, instead ducking his head slightly and turning to the side.  The older dwarf shook his head somewhat in disbelief, wondering how his thoughts had suddenly turned so dark.  He mentally cursed himself for doubting his nephews, even for a moment.  They were loyal to a fault, too loyal.  Both of them had followed him so far, and continued to even after facing the trials that obstructed their path.  They deserved to share some moments of happiness with one another, deserved to find love with each other.  How dare he judge them in such a way?  If anything Thorin was to blame.  Was he not the one putting them in danger? 

Thorin rubbed at his face tiredly, feeling far older than he had upon leaving the Blue Mountains.  His mind was jumbled and confused.  He was second guessing everything, acting rash, and failing to control his temper.  He wanted to relax with the others, enjoy what time they had left together, but there was something constantly itching at his soul.  He felt a pull, towards the mountain, and the closer he got to it, the stronger it became.  Thorin felt moisture welling in his eyes as he imagined for a moment that he was changing, turning into someone else entirely.  He scrunched his eyelids tightly closed, and willed the thoughts away.  He was not his grandfather.  He was Thorin Oakenshield.  He had a sister, and two nephews he loved dearly.  He had a company of loyal dwarves that followed him across the lands, no matter what obstructed their path.  He would not let them down.

Thorin sat down slowly, and he tried to relax enough to get some sleep, but his shoulders remained tense as he glanced out the window again.  He was antsy, and wanted nothing more than to get up and continue marching towards his destination, regardless of whether or not the rest of the company followed in his stead.  Instead he narrowed his eyes and watched the horizon fearfully, his fingers clenching tightly into fists.  He didn’t know what to think anymore.

* * *

Kíli’s first opinion of Erebor was not pleasant.  He found it oppressive despite its overwhelming size.  The mountain towered above him, and continued deep beneath the earth for miles.  He took in the vast amount of gold warily and watched the way the wealth of the mountain enraptured his uncle and warped his very being.  Thorin was possessed, changed, and he basked amongst the jewels without ever getting a wink of sleep.  It was as though he was petrified, that should he close his eyes for but a moment, someone might steal it all out from beneath his very feet.  Everyone could see it, everyone was afraid, but none quite so much as Kíli.  He was reminded of a dwarf that once loomed over him, looked down at him disdainfully, as though his very presence in the world was like a curse. 

The dwarves were ordered to search the halls endlessly for the Arkenstone, pouring over the sea of gold and jewels, day and night.  Kíli looked tirelessly for the precious gem, if only to please his uncle and gain his respect, but no matter how hard he looked, he came out empty handed.  It seemed an impossible task.  A thousand times harder than finding a needle in a haystack.  After days trifling through the golden piles, barely a dent had been made, and there was absolutely no sign of the King’s jewel.  The brunet sighed despairingly as he collapsed atop the piles in exhaustion.  He felt like giving up and resting, but as he glanced up to the colonnade he could see his uncle’s shadow hovering there, keeping watch, and then Kíli’s eyes connected with icy blue, and his breath hitched at the disgust settled deep within the older dwarf’s gaze.  He stood on shaky legs and continued his search, no matter how impossible the task.

The young dwarf knew his uncle was lost, but he had not realised quite how much until Thorin guided him and Fíli through the caverns deep below.  They came to rest atop an immense room and the older dwarf gestured out at the levels and pathways that seemed to continue endlessly into the depths beneath the mountain.  Kíli swallowed nervously as he recognized what lay beneath the intricate walkways, and couldn’t help the way his feet staggered back away from the terrace in surprise. 

“Behold, the great mines of Erebor,” Thorin bellowed, his arm held out beyond the ledge as he stared fondly at the elaborate contraptions and interlocking lanes below.

“Where our jewel was once found,” Thorin intoned, and his gaze travelled towards Kíli as he signalled to another of the dwarves down below.  Suddenly the ground shook as huge pistons began shifting back and forth.  The forges boomed to life, and an eerie glow lit the channel and flashed within Thorin’s eyes.  Kíli inhaled in fear as chain links hitched and groaned, moving carts of age old jewels across the entire length of the mine.  There were so many sounds, cranking, screeching, deep heavy droning, and Kíli could feel the vibrations reverberating in his bones.  He stumbled slightly, and fell away even further, until his back pressed against the wall near the entrance.  His eyes widened as he cowered at the sounds echoing through the chamber, and Fíli turned towards him with concerned eyes.

“F-Fíli, I-I can’t,” Kíli stuttered, and with one last glance at the other two dwarves, the brunet gasped painfully and fled from the room.  Fíli twisted to go after him but Thorin gripped his tunic fiercely and pulled him back.

“Let him go, nephew,” the older dwarf demanded, releasing the blond after a few moments, feeling confident that his heir would heed his words and stay.  But instead Fíli backed away, looking at his uncle warily as he shook his head.  Thorin growled at him threateningly, but the blond seemed unaffected, and he frowned at his uncle before chasing after Kíli worriedly.  Thorin stood above the mines in disbelief, and then he pulled a gemstone from one of the passing carts and threw it into the cavern angrily.  The sound echoed ominously as it ricocheted off every surface it hit, and Thorin’s gaze darkened as he stared down at the mines pensively.

Someone had betrayed him, he was sure of it.  The other dwarves were acting strange, skittish, and many seemed to have lost interest in the search for the Arkenstone altogether.  He couldn’t trust anyone, not even his own nephews.  It was one of them, it had to be.  Someone was scheming, behind his back, plotting some kind of rebellion.  Thorin had seen the others conversing quietly in hidden alcoves within the halls.  Did they think him an idiot? Surely Fíli knew better, surely his heir would not rise up against him in revolt.  No, it was definitely the spare.  His blue gaze burned with ire while his thoughts became focused on one thing in particular.

He had to eliminate the weakest link.

* * *

Kíli was fading, and quickly.  Each day felt closer to his last.  The halls of Erebor towered over him, and made his throat catch in short heaving gasps.   He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep.  The mines were always running deep within the caverns, even though there were so few dwarves to man them.  The floors shook constantly beneath his feet, and he clung to ledges and walls as he walked, worried that an explosion might throw him to the ground at any moment.  Kíli spent every waking second looking over his shoulders fearfully.  He was avoiding everyone else, especially Thorin.  Kíli had not spoken to his uncle in over a week.  Anytime he saw the other dwarf he ducked around the nearest corner and hurried to find a safe place to hide, somewhere far away from the mines.  Sometimes he heard the older dwarf calling out his name, the sound echoing through the halls menacingly.  Even Fíli’s heart beating alongside his own was not enough to keep him calm.        

Kíli peeked around a corner and then hesitantly took a step into the hallway ahead.  His stomach was grumbling painfully, and he desperately needed a bite to eat, but it was too risky to join the other dwarves in the pantry.  Even though Thorin spent much of his time eyeing the wealth within the mountain, he could easily have shown up for a meal at any time.  Kíli inched towards the pantry, listening carefully for signs of other dwarves.  He could hear Bofur conversing with his brother, but no one else, and the brunet sighed and tried to relax his shoulders as he approached.  His neck was unbelievably tense from holding such a strained position for so long, and he closed his eyes and stretched it painfully to the side. 

When he opened them he was met with his uncle’s penetrating blue gaze.  Kíli inhaled in surprise and froze, his eyes widening as he stared back at the other dwarf.  Thorin looked menacing, dressed in heavy intricate armour, gold and jewels braided into his beard and hair.  Just as Kíli was contemplating running in the opposite direction, his hunger be damned, the other dwarf spoke.

“Kíli,” Thorin’s deep tenor boomed down the hall, and his expression was deceptively calm.  Kíli didn’t move an inch.

“Come with me,” the older dwarf commanded, and Kíli eyed him warily, his legs tensing as he quickly glanced off towards the side.  He did not want to follow Thorin anywhere, not alone, and not within the mountain.  He wanted to turn tail and risk the other dwarf’s wrath, hope blindly that someone might come to his rescue.

“Now!” Thorin shouted, shaking the brunet to his very core, and Kíli took an unstable step towards him.  He clutched his tunic like a security blanket and stepped the remaining distance towards his uncle, trying desperately to hide the trembling of his form.  Once Thorin was sure he was following the older dwarf turned and began leading Kíli deeper into the mountain, up staircases and through pathways the brunet was unfamiliar with.  The tremors in the walls became stronger, and the sounds of the mines louder.  Kíli shuffled slowly behind his uncle, knowing that he would not like where they were headed. 

Light emanated through the archways ahead, and it flickered off the golden trim decorating the great pillars along their path.  Kíli could see his uncle’s form clearly outlined by the strange ominous glow, and it seemed to pulse along with his beating heart.  Eventually Thorin stopped, standing at a railing, and he turned towards Kíli and gestured him to approach.  The younger dwarf knew what lay below, and he hesitated and whimpered as his eyes locked onto the flashing lights beyond his uncle. 

“Kíli, look,” Thorin ordered him, and Kíli’s eyes flicked to the side nervously and he hunched slightly forwards but stayed glued to his spot. 

“U-uncle, please don’t do this,” he begged, already knowing it was wishful thinking on his part.

“Look!” Thorin shouted hoarsely, and Kíli flinched but still made no sign of movement.  After a few seconds his uncle let out a frustrated noise and stomped towards him, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and dragging him close to the ledge.  Kíli screeched and pleaded with the other dwarf to let him go, but it had little effect, and the brunet clung to the railing as he was made to look down upon the molten rivers flowing below.  He felt his throat constricting, and it felt as though ice pumped through his veins.   

“Have you betrayed me?” Thorin hissed at his side, and the grip on Kíli’s neck tightened threateningly.

“N-no!” Kíli stuttered, shaking his head desperately as he watched pistons working continuously in the mines so far beneath them.

“You’re planning to overthrow me!  You’ve befriended those pathetic humans in Lake-town!  You’re plotting with them!” Thorin accused, and he pushed his nephew harder into the railing to enunciate his point.

“U-uncle p-please, I w-wouldn’t,” Kíli promised, and he cried out in surprise when the other dwarf lifted him over the railing so that he was forced to look straight down into the fiery depths.  Kíli screamed and tried to grab hold of anything for support, but he was far too frantic, and if not for Thorin’s hold upon his tunic he would have easily slipped and fallen to his death.

 “Where is it?!” Thorin shouted, and Kíli sobbed as he shook his body along with his words.  Several arrows fell from his quiver, and he watched them spiral towards the ground ominously.  He stared blankly in confusion, not sure what madness had taken over his uncle’s mind.

“The Arkenstone, I know you have it!” Thorin seethed through gritted teeth, making Kíli narrow his eyes at the absurdity of the statement.  The brunet didn’t understand.  Had he found it, he would have given it to his uncle long ago.  It was absolute madness, but Kíli could not manage to put those thoughts into words.  The other dwarf was clearly far too blinded by greed to listen to reason, and Kíli was so terrified that not a single muscle in his body chose to respond.

“You little spineless wretch, stealing from your own kin! Perhaps I should dispose of you before you can do anything further!” Thorin snarled, and then he lifted Kíli and began dragging him fully over the railing.  The brunet clammed up and kicked out wildly, struggling to get away from his uncle’s grasp, but he was not as strong, and he cried out as his hair and necklace dangled, while the rest of his arrows sank into the caverns.  Kíli squeezed his eyes shut in terror and felt tears streaming down his face as he weakly grappled with the other dwarf’s arm.  He thought for sure he was going to die, and he could only imagine how horrific it might feel to have his skin melted from his bones in the molten gold, if he managed to survive such a fall.  Kíli was losing what little strength he had as his uncle overpowered him, and then suddenly there was shouting and arms were pulling at his clothes and tugging him back away from the ledge. 

“Thorin! Stop this madness!” Balin yelled over the noises, and several dwarves pushed their way between Thorin and his nephew.  Kíli crumpled to the ground and skittered away towards the nearest wall, curling in on himself as the other dwarves rushed to protect him.  Thorin was throwing insults at everyone, and Fíli looked incensed as he confronted the other dwarf.  Bilbo scurried to Kíli’s side, failing to get much of a response from the terrorized dwarf, and Dwalin quickly intervened, lifting the young brunet and hoisting him away from the mines.  Óin trailed after him, already searching through his pack for herbs with soothing properties.  The others remained warily within the alcove, watching as Thorin hurled curses at his eldest nephew, while the blond scuffled with him and pushed him away.

“Why would you bring him here?!” Fíli cried, his expression teeming with rage.  He could hear the terror still, his brother’s desperate pleas for help. 

“Of all places, you knew, you had to,” he hissed accusingly and he slammed his hands against the railing, glancing towards the mines.

“He cannot even stand the sounds of the mine in the blue mountain, and you bring him directly into these?  You could have killed him!  You nearly threw him to his death!” Fíli shouted over the heavy droning of the forges.  Thorin showed no signs of regret.

“Have you lost your mind?” Fíli asked, his chest heaving as he breathed deeply in and out.  Thorin bared his teeth and fell back against the rampart, a sickening glint shining in his eyes.  

“I have no time for dwarves that cannot face their fears! If he cannot handle a mine, what good is he on a battlefield?” Thorin scoffed and held his chin high in the air, looking down upon his nephew in disdain.

“You are maddened, changed, you’re not my uncle any longer,” Fíli whispered reproachfully, and when Thorin moved to exit Fíli immediately blocked his path.  He could not risk the other dwarf finding Kíli again.  He’d done more than enough damage already.

“You dare defy me? Your King?” Thorin gasped, eyeing his nephew aggressively, his fingers already moving to linger above the hilt of his sword.

“I will always choose him first.  Over anyone, over my friends, over myself, even over my King,” Fíli claimed, and then he lowered his gaze in disgust and grimaced at the other dwarf.

“But you are no King of mine,” he spoke clearly, and Thorin immediately reacted, drawing his blade and rushing towards him.  The rest of the company gasped, but sidled away as Fíli drew his own blades and crossed them to block his uncle’s attack.  The blond’s eyes were like that of a demon, possessed, serious, and focused only on parrying each attack sent his way.  Thorin lunged like madman, clashing their blades together furiously.  He took in his nephew’s blue gaze, the intricate braids that whipped about as he moved to avoid his attacks.  Each attack brought visions to the forefront of his mind, and he staggered suddenly when he realised just who he was fighting with.

 _It was his nephew, his own blood, his heir_.   He took another swing.  _Fíli had no right! How dare he revolt!_   A loud clang rang out in the chamber as their swords knocked together.  _He was still just a child_.  Thorin reacted when the other dwarf fought back, swinging at him with purpose.  _An enemy!_  He slid to the side, his blade scratching against the stone beneath his feet.  _He remembered the boys in his arms as he read them a tale, Fíli watching him with attentive eyes_.  Thorin heaved as he stared the other dwarf down. _Greedy! Obnoxious! Cowardly!_ He shouted loudly and ran at Fíli, pushing him hard against one of the hulking pillars.  The blond dropped his swords in surprise and inhaled as a blade pushed up against his neck, brushing against the skin. Thorin met his eyes and grinned in satisfaction, knowing that all he had to do was push forward another inch.  _Intelligent blue eyes, so eager to learn, to protect his brother._ Thorin faltered slightly and his hands began to sweat where they gripped the hilt of his blade.  

“Do it,” Fíli growled, and one of the other dwarves gasped when Thorin inched forwards slightly.

“I would gladly die for him, defending his honour,” Fíli swore and he raised his head and barely winced as the steel cut through the skin of his neck.  Thorin’s gaze lowered slightly and he furrowed his brow when a drop of blood dripped down the length of his nephew’s neck.  The blade shook within his grasp and he forced himself away from the blond, letting his arm lower.  Fíli slumped against the wall and raised his fingers to wipe across his neck, smearing red across his skin.  He glared at his uncle and watched as the other dwarf stared intently at the ground.   

“Get out of my sight,” Thorin mumbled, and Fíli staggered around him towards the exit.  When the other dwarves remained caught in a stunned silence Thorin lifted his sword again and growled at them.

“All of you!” he shouted, and the company quickly escaped, sending wary glances behind their retreating forms.  Thorin continued breathing heavily until the last dwarf disappeared down the lengthy hall and then his sword clattered to the ground.  The dwarf looked around himself in distress, and then lifted his shaking hands to his head.  They were his nephews, like sons to him, how had he turned on them in such a way?  He’d nearly killed Fíli, almost sliced right through his neck, and still that was nothing compared to what he’d done to Kíli.  He was sure he had inflicted irreparable damage to the brunet, and surely, what remained of the innocent child was lost forever.  Thorin’s eyes moistened, reddening around the edges, and he crumpled to the ground with an anguished cry.  

* * *

Fíli stormed through the halls in pursuit of Dwalin and his little brother, and he skidded to a halt when he spotted the dwarves lingering in a shadowy alcove.  Kíli was trembling in a ball on the ground and Óin knelt in front of him and struggled to catch his attention.  Fíli hurried to where Dwalin stood on guard, and the large dwarf nodded in relief at the sight of him but narrowed his eyes when he noticed the streak of blood on his neck.

“Is he alright?” Fíli asked, nudging Óin aside as he reached out to lift his brother’s head in his hands.  The brunet’s eyes were open, but unseeing, and he made no signal of recognition when Fíli looked directly at him.

“He won’t respond,” Óin murmured in defeat, and he shoved his pack aside and scratched at his head worriedly.  Kíli was rocking slightly back and forth in a near catatonic state, and they all knew there was not a single herb that could heal him.   Fíli could hear his erratic heartbeat, and he focused on that and pressed his brow to his brother’s as he tried to bring him back from whatever vision attacked his mind.  Fíli’s fingers trailed through his brother’s hair, and he murmured comforting words against his nose.  Kíli inhaled suddenly and raised his eyes, looking towards Fíli from beneath his eyelashes.  He whined slightly and squeezed his eyes shut before leaning into the other dwarf, and Fíli enfolded his arms around him comfortingly.   

“Kíli, shh, nadadith,” the blond whispered into his ear, and he shared a quick look with Dwalin and Óin before moving to stand.

“Grab hold of me,” Fíli muttered lowly, and he felt Kíli’s arms wrap around his shoulders in return, and then the brunet’s fingers clenched tightly in his tunic.  Fíli hoisted him easily from the ground, and with a final nod towards the others, made his way to a private bedchamber.  There was little still intact within the mountain and everything seemed caked in endless layers of dust, but the furnishings remained. Fíli paid no mind to the state of things, and brushed away the dirt from a bed before placing his brother’s form atop the ancient covers.  The two lay in silence beside one another, Kíli still looking rather worse for wear. The blond remained patient, watching his brother’s face carefully.  Kíli’s eyes roamed and eventually settled where the open wound tarnished the other dwarf’s neck.  He swallowed thickly and reached out, running his fingers through the trail of blood and creating an even bigger smudge, before gently dabbing at the wound with his sleeve. 

“He really does hate me,” Kíli spoke softly and Fíli grasped his brother’s hand tightly between his own.

“Kíli, do not think on it, not a word of it,” the blond uttered as he tapped beneath Kíli’s chin.  The brunet raised his face and blinked a few tears from his eyes, while Fíli leaned in and kissed the end of his nose.

“He doesn’t mean it. There’s a sickness about him, taking hold of his mind.  There are moments where I see him fighting against it,” the blond insisted.  The mountain groaned and the walls trembled slightly as the forges continued working and Kíli inched closer to his brother and sniffled.

“Are you ashamed of me?” the brunet asked, and Kíli sighed as he felt the faintest touch of lips to his brow.

“No, never,” Fíli assured him quickly.

“Listen, I know you hear it, what does it say?” the blond demanded, his fingers resting lightly over the other dwarf’s chest.  It seemed like the connection was stronger than usual, perhaps ever growing, and Kíli listened to their hearts feeling calmed by the sound of them intertwining.

“Nadadith, what does it say?” Fíli pressed, and his lips grazed down the side of his brother’s face before making contact with his lips.  Their hearts began to race even from such a subtle contact, and Fíli dragged his tongue against the other dwarf’s mouth before pulling away.  Kíli stared at him with shining eyes, his skin alight with colour, and then he reached up and tugged playfully on the blond’s moustache braids.

“You are mine, and I am yours,” Kíli voiced, sounding much steadier than he had moments before.  Fíli smiled gently and moved closer to kiss him again, while his hands roamed lower and began unfastening the buckles at his brother’s waist.  Kíli gasped and let Fíli’s lips take control, and then he moaned unintelligibly when the other dwarf pushed the shirt from his shoulder and lowered his head to suck heatedly at the freshly bared skin. The brunet jolted forwards into his brother’s form and even Fíli was caught off guard as their bodies aligned atop the bed.  He groaned loudly and continued kissing down his brother’s collar, until he finally placed a much gentler kiss atop his brother’s heart.  Fíli heard the brunet’s heart rate jump slightly, and then he flipped him onto his back and landed hard above him.  Dust flew up from the duvet, sending both dwarves into coughing fits, and then Kíli snickered as he struggled to clear his throat.  The blond waved some of the clouds away and hovered over the other dwarf, watching his brother fondly.  It was refreshing to see Kíli’s smile, and Fíli grinned slightly before bending low to take his lips once more.

* * *

Kíli jumped over a fallen body and rolled to the ground as it rumbled from the stampeding armies.  A warg stormed at him, and Kíli hurried to pull an arrow from his quiver, shooting the beast straight on only inches before its snarling teeth tore into his form.  He ducked to avoid a blade, and then hurried to his feet and ran through the throng of fighting towards the cliffs beyond the mountain.  Kíli knew his uncle was at the top, chasing after Azog the defiler in an effort to send the orc army into chaos.  He couldn’t let Thorin die, he had to help, no matter what, and Kíli frantically searched for a path up the mountainside.  He heard his brother call after him worriedly, but continued on regardless, jumping over rocky ledges and struggling to climb towards the top. 

He had to fight alongside his uncle, not only to prove his worth, but also to protect him and keep his King safe.  No matter what, Kíli would defend the other dwarf to his death, even if Thorin hated him.  Kíli pulled his body over an icy ledge and searched the landscape quickly, his eyes widening as they landed on his uncle struggling to avoid blow after blow from the monstrous orc.  Azog towered over him, and Kíli could see several wargs closing in around Thorin as well.  He rubbed the sweat from his eyes and nocked an arrow, sending it flying at the first one to lunge.  Several more followed and Kíli hurriedly shot them to the ground, pausing only as his feet slipped across the ice covered river.  He staggered and his hand landed in snow, and Kíli quickly pulled it away, shaking out his fingers as they threatened to clam up from the cold.

Thorin dodged another attack and eyed the fallen wargs around him as Azog turned towards the source of the arrows.  The dwarf King’s eyes opened wide as he caught sight of his youngest nephew and he hurled his blade at the pale orc in an attempt to draw his attention once again.  Azog laughed as Kíli approached sending an arrow at the orc that was easily swiped away. 

“What are you doing here?!” Thorin shouted anxiously, and Kíli grinned at him and slid to the side as Azog moved towards him instead.  Thorin immediately lunged at the orc, slicing through his skin, desperately trying to distract him from his nephew.  Azog growled and twisted towards the dwarven King, reaching out to knock him in the chest, and Thorin stumbled to the ground at the impact.

“Kíli, go!” Thorin shouted as he scrambled to his feet, feeling his throat close in as the pale orc grinned menacingly and made for his nephew again, swinging his flail towards the ice.  It cracked in several places and Kíli reeled back, struggling to gain his balance as the ice shifted beneath his feet.

“Please, go!” Thorin begged, but Kíli made no attempt to run away, and instead stood in front of the orc ready to fight.  Thorin felt his heart sinking, and he gripped his bruised chest and hobbled closer, but not before the orc smashed his flail again atop the frozen wasteland.  Kíli gasped as the ice broke around his feet, his bow slipping from his fingers, and then Azog was upon him.  The brunet cried out as he was hit head on in his side, and his arm shattered when he fell to the ground heavily.  His feet slid into freezing water and Kíli groaned painfully as the orc loomed over his body menacingly.  Thorin was struggling to get closer, practically crawling across what remained of the river, and Kíli looked towards him with desperate eyes.   

Thorin shook his head as he watched Azog grip his nephew by his tunic and suddenly the orc hoisted him along the ice and shoved his body beneath the surface of the water.  Kíli gurgled and struggled weakly in his grasp, choking on the water that invaded his lungs.  Cold over took his form, and his body seized up, going limp in the orc’s hold upon him.  He could hear children laughing at him, surrounding him, and Kíli’s heart skipped as fear invaded his mind.  He had a single moment to gasp for air as Azog lifted him from the water, but then he was quickly thrown back in, and this time the orc let him go.  Kíli shuddered as he sank under the ice, his heavy tunic and boots weighing him down.  His arms flailed in front of him, coming in contact with the solid ice above him, and he dragged his nails across it as his body flowed along with the current.  He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, his eyes and throat burned as the cold washed over his form.  He was certain he was going to die, cold, alone, and having failed to defend his kin. 

His eyes began to close, and then he felt the ice crash down above him and two hands gripped his tunic and pulled hard.  Kíli convulsed as air filled his lungs, and he shivered as his body was dragged atop the snow.  He couldn’t feel his legs, and his eyes blurred in and out of focus as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings.  Bofur was looking down at him, and Ori was not far beyond, his eyes blown wide with worry.  Kíli’s head lolled to the side as he coughed the remaining water from his lungs, and he could see Azog’s hulking form moving in the distance.  There was a glimpse of blond hair, and then Kíli realised his brother was facing the orc head on, holding him off.  He fought viciously, swinging his swords in front of his body to block Azog’s ruthless attacks.  There were others as well, circling around the orc and approaching carefully.  Kíli breathed in roughly as he watched Fíli fighting in the distance.  He felt useless, lying in the snow as the other dwarves fought off the wargs moving in on them.  Someone threw a blanket atop his body as he was attacked by shivers, and just as his vision began to fade he saw Azog throw his brother to the ground.  Fíli’s heart stuttered, and his eyes became vacant as he lay still on the frozen ground. Kíli was gasping for air and when he opened his mouth to scream no sound came out.  His heart pounded loudly in his ears, along with his brother’s, but it was waning, and he slipped into unconsciousness fearing he might never hear the rhythmic sound again.

* * *

Kíli woke sluggishly, his eyelids lifting slowly, as though they were weighted down by some invisible force.  He could hear the thrumming sound that constantly haunted him, the sound of the powerful mines within Erebor.  His legs were in agony, and all he could visualize were Fíli’s eyes, empty of any sign of life.  His breathing quickened, and he nearly shrieked, but he forced himself to look inwards to find the sound that kept him sane.  It was faint, barely there, but he could hear it, the thump, thump, thump, in tandem with his own heart.

The brunet thrashed against the covers, turning his head frantically to the side in search of his brother.  He could barely move, and his bones seized up as he tried.  He felt feverish and wanted to kick the heavy blankets from his body, but a gentle pressure on his chest kept him from struggling further.  Kíli’s eyes flew towards the form standing over his bedside, and he shivered as his gaze met Thorin’s emotion filled blue eyes.  The older dwarf moved to lift the covers higher, so that they settled just beneath Kíli’s chin.  The brunet frowned as he suddenly realized how clammy his skin was.  Shivers ran up and down his spine, but his face and neck felt overheated and feverish.  Kíli made a frustrated sound as his uncle’s hand found its way to his brow, wiping the sweaty hair from his skin.     

“Shh, nephew,” he voiced, staring down at Kíli like he was something irreplaceable.  Thorin sat down, but remained at his side, looking at him fondly.

“You have hypothermia, and a broken arm, among other injuries,” he explained, nodding towards the excessive number of blankets tucked around his nephew’s body.

“F-Fíli?” Kíli asked, his voice catching as his throat ached from the strain of speaking.  Thorin’s lips lifted slightly at the side and he set a hand over his nephew’s heart.

“He’s alive, you know he is,” Thorin spoke calmly, but it did little to soothe the brunet.  He remembered his brother falling, Azog knocking him back, and his heart slowing to a halt. 

“I c-couldn’t, I-, my f-fault,” Kíli stuttered, and Thorin bent over him and gripped his jaw firmly.

“He’ll be alright Kíli,” he intoned, studying his nephew’s sorrowful gaze.  Kíli shook his head atop the pillow and refused to meet his uncle’s eyes, clearly refusing to believe his uncle’s words.  The older dwarf frowned and brushed several stray hairs behind Kíli’s ear, and he scrunched up his brow as he watched Kíli fight against some kind of inner turmoil.  

“What have I done to you,” Thorin murmured, and his nephew’s dark irises looked upon his face in confusion.  The older dwarf felt guilt seep through his veins.  He knew it was his fault his nephew suffered so much, knew he had made everything so much worse after finding the cursed mountain.  Greed had blinded him, controlled him, and forced him to hurt those he held dearest to his heart.  Kíli’s eyes were so distant, empty of the childlike innocence he once possessed.  It made him feel sickened. 

“I remember a little dwarf that would stop at nothing to achieve his goals, a dwarf that longed to discover new things, that could imagine the indescribable,” Thorin described, and he tilted his head slightly as he watched his nephew closely.

“He had such a sparkle in his dark eyes, and looked at the world like it was the most beautiful place,” Thorin continued.  Kíli’s mouth fell open slightly but he didn’t say anything, even as Thorin bowed his head and rubbed furiously at his face.

“I hope…,” the older dwarf trailed off and shook his head back and forth before continuing.

“I hope I have not scared what remained of that dwarf away,” he mumbled, and his shoulders shook slightly as he began to cry.  Never had he fallen apart in such a way, and Kíli gasped lightly when a few tears fell, leaving visible wet marks on the blankets.

”U-uncle,” Kíli whispered, and Thorin pulled back and smiled at him shakily before rubbing off his face.  He took a few seconds to compose himself as best he could, gently massaging his eyebrows as he took deep breaths.  He reached into his tunic, searching for something with purpose, and then he held a crumpled piece of parchment out in front of his nephew.  The brunet frowned at the scribble and looked between it and his uncle several times.

“Do you remember this?” Thorin asked him, and Kíli shook his head slightly as he studied the scratchy lines.  It looked like someone had taken a quill and let the ink blot out on the parchment randomly, then perhaps let it fall into a water basin to soak some more. 

“You drew this, when you were just a little thing,” Thorin chuckled lightly as he tried to flatten the paper, and his fingers played with the edges that threatened to curl inwards.  Kíli narrowed his eyes as he looked at the worn parchment again, wondering why on earth his uncle had kept such a stupid scribble for such a long time.

“It was a bird once,” Thorin explained, his thumbs inching across the ink scratches as he leant further over the bed.  His gaze lingered on the parchment for a moment and then he put it down atop his nephew’s body.

“I’m afraid I’ve not taken very good care of it, much like you,” Thorin admitted, and then he winced and bent forwards until his torso was sprawled over his nephew as well.  Kíli’s face crumpled as he watched his uncle break down again, his shoulders visibly trembling as he sobbed into the bedding.  The brunet blinked tears from his own eyes and tried to come up with something to say.  Something that might comfort his uncle and explain that Kíli knew it wasn’t his fault.  He was never strong with words, Fíli was the one gifted in that department.  So he squirmed as much as he was able until he managed to free one of his arms from the nest of blankets.  Kíli raised his hand and let it fall gently over his uncle’s shoulders.  He rubbed gentle circles into the other dwarf’s back, silently telling Thorin that everything was alright, that he understood and forgave him long ago.

* * *

Kíli’s dreams proved troubling and chaotic.  He relived the final battle over and over again, in innumerable different ways.  Sometimes he fell from the cliff side long before ever reaching the top.  In those dreams he was plagued with guilt, knowing that he was more useless than ever, and could not even defend his uncle or aid his brother in battle.  Instead he ended up splattered across the rocks, left to stare lifelessly above, until the skies turned dark and the river ran red with the blood of his kin. 

In other dreams he made it to the top, only to fall through the ice and drown listening to Azog’s cruel laughter as it assaulted him beneath the water.  Sometimes he saw Fíli’s strained face peering down at him, watched him die, only able to claw at the solid layer of ice above him.  Sometimes it was his uncle that loomed above the river, sporting the disappointed gaze that Kíli feared so very much. 

The worst of his dreams however, were not about the battle at all; instead they featured the immense mines at the heart of Erebor.  He would get lost amongst the winding pathways and find himself trapped in the mazelike caverns, unable to escape as the walls trembled and exploded, destroying the structure around him.  He’d stand frozen in place, as cracks appeared along the ground, and molten gold seeped along towards him.  It surrounded his body, poured in around him and burned his skin, eventually hardening so that he became stuck inside the solid metal forever, cast in gold for not a soul to remember.  He could not hear his brother’s heart, nor any sign of another living creature, and spent eternity in darkness all alone. 

He woke up several times, always in the same bed, in the same dark room, somewhere within the mountain.  More often than not there was no one at his bedside to hear him screaming when he woke, but on occasion his uncle stood nearby and rushed to soothe him, or one of the other members of the company would peer down at him with worry in their eyes.  He sometimes woke to Ori reading at his side, or Bilbo holding his hand.  He was sure Dwalin and even Nori had occupied the chair beside his bed, watching him carefully through the night.  It was never the dwarf he longed to see, and the day his eyes finally opened and looked up into the blue gaze of his brother, Kíli wondered if he had awoken at all, or if perhaps it was just another dream.  A pleasant dream for once instead of the terrifying nightmares that plagued him.     

“You’re alive,” Kíli mouthed the words, and Fíli’s mouth twitched slightly at the edges in response.  The blond looked well, and entirely intact, though he sported a freshly sewn up wound down the length of his face and was holding fast to a cane.  Fíli said nothing as the brunet continued to study him, but his eyes shone with emotion, as though he was seeing the other dwarf in a new light, and not long after the blond leaned in and kissed Kíli fervently.  The brunet was afraid to close his eyes, should he find himself in the land of nightmares once more, so he watched his brother’s blurry face as their hearts merged within his mind and their lips moved together in unison.  He felt flushed and feverish, but not uncomfortably so, and when his brother lifted him up slightly by placing a single hand beneath his neck, Kíli allowed his head to fall back as the other dwarf deepened the kiss.  He felt hazy and lightheaded, and began to doubt his surroundings even more as he slipped back into sleep.

For days Kíli was sure it was all a dream, and that his brother was truly gone, that one day he might wake up and feel nothing in his heart at all.  That day never came, and when he was finally deemed fully recovered it felt unreal and far too good to be true.  Fíli was at his side again, holding out an arm to support him, and Kíli took it hesitantly but let the other dwarf lead him around the mountain even as the blond limped slightly and leant heavily on the cane at his other side. 

Everything looked different than it had before the battle.  The halls were lighter, less constraining, the ceilings tall and grand instead of intimidating.  Sunlight streamed into the long pathways through elongated windows and openings far above, casting magical shadows upon everything and making the golden beams sparkle elegantly.  It was all so familiar, and yet somehow it felt like he was living in an alternate reality.

Despite his lighter surroundings, nothing quite stopped Kíli’s trembling when the mines kicked to life deep within Erebor.  He was slowly becoming accustomed to the sound, it was hard not to when he lived amongst it every day.  But it was always there, always reminding him of him of his fears, and there were many times Kíli was forced to pause and focus on his brother’s heart to keep from cowering alone in a corner.  He could not bring himself to look upon the mines, always inching in the opposite direction whenever he glanced down the long pathways that lead to the centre of the mountain.  And he still woke in the nights dripping with sweat, sure that the entire mountain had collapsed atop his body, leaving him encased in rubble deep below the earth. 

Everyone was on edge around the brunet, and even Thorin kept his distance, unsure whether or not he would be welcome at his nephew’s side.  The dwarven king could not remember everything he did while under the spell of gold, but he could remember the sight of his youngest nephew cowering in fear because of his threatening words.  He saw glimpses of Fíli’s angered gaze, staring him down and daring him to act.  He even vaguely recalled nearly throwing Bilbo from the mountain, and sending him to a painful death upon the rock face below.  Balin had told him things that made the dwarf wish he could turn back time, relive the entire journey and perhaps spare Kíli from so much suffering.  He wondered sometimes, if given the chance, might he choose to stay in the Blue Mountains instead, forgo the journey in favour of a peaceful life spent with his family.  In Thorin’s mind, his actions were deplorable, no matter what curse had controlled him.  Kíli may have forgiven him, but Thorin would never forgive himself.   

There was a significant change in Kíli.  Though he seemed to have much greater control over his reaction to loud sounds, he was visibly tense, his personality muted, and he often isolated himself from others.  The brunet frequently stared out over the landscapes surrounding the mountain through unfocused eyes, clearly lost somewhere in his thoughts.  Fíli would have liked to take him away into the forests, like he had while in the Blue Mountains, but there was little time for such things with a kingdom to rebuild and treaties to make.  The blond spent his days working beside Thorin to learn the duties of acting as King, while he watched his brother’s spark continue to fade with each passing day.

On one afternoon Fíli browsed the ancient tomes with Thorin in the study, trying to learn as much about the kingdom of Erebor as possible.  Kíli remained off to the side, uninterested in the task of learning so much useless history and Thorin did not have the heart to force him to.  It became clear however, that Fíli also held little interest for the subject on that day.  The blond’s gaze frequently lifted from the pages and drifted to the far corner of the room, where his brother looked out through an archway, his eyes lost as they stared towards the horizon beyond the rolling hills.  Thorin followed his eldest nephew’s gaze, frowning when he took in Kíli’s lacklustre expression and slumped posture.  The brunet tapped his fingers idly against some parchment strewn across his lap, but did not seem to be making much progress on whatever he was working on.

As Thorin spoke on one of the passages Fíli’s attention returned to him, and the blond nodded at his uncle’s words, but the older dwarf did not miss his nephew’s surreptitious glances elsewhere in the room.  Fíli’s face was strained more than usual, and he seemed focused inward, perhaps even troubled by whatever his brother’s heart was telling him.  Thorin sat back in his seat and reached over in front of his nephew, closing the cover on the book decisively, and when Fíli looked towards him in surprise the older dwarf inclined his head to the side.     

“Fíli, go to your brother, your studies can wait,” Thorin stated, and the blond gaped at him for a moment before lowering his head and rubbing at the back of his neck embarrassedly.  He nodded in thanks and stood to approach his brother, hovering just over the other dwarf’s shoulder for a moment as he looked down at the papers in his lap.  A light breeze flew through the archway, fluttering the parchment slightly and blowing some of his brother’s hair around his face.  When he placed a single hand on Kíli’s shoulder the brunet startled and turned towards him quickly as his heart jumped in surprise.  Fíli smiled at him gently and once Kíli relaxed he shoved his little brother to the side to sit next to him in the alcove.

“What are you working on?” Fíli asked as he adjusted the heavy drapery behind his back.  Kíli eyed him slightly and looked down towards his lap, flattening the papers out with a shrug.

“It’s nothing really,” Kíli muttered as he pushed his hair back over his shoulder. 

“Just…just thoughts, useless ideas,” he explained vaguely.  Fíli leaned into him and wrapped and arm about his brother’s shoulders, reaching over to flip through some of the pages curiously.  His eyes widened as he took in the diagrams and sketches, fairly rough, as his brother was hardly an artist, but clearly well thought out.  Various notes were scribbled along the sides along with some doodles to better describe the way things might work.  

“A flying machine,” Fíli mentioned, looking into his brother’s eyes with a smile.  Kíli ducked his head lightly and grimaced as he looked at the diagrams sadly.

“It’ll never work,” he whispered, his fingers tightening at the edges of the parchment.  Fíli tugged him closer playfully, and pressed a sloppy kiss to his temple, drawing a small squeak from the other dwarf’s lips.  The blond reached out and toyed with the feather necklace his brother still wore and then he let it fall back to its place on the other dwarf’s neck.

“If anyone can make such a thing work it is you, nadadith,” Fíli encouraged, and Kíli smiled at him in thanks.  Fíli played with his long hair for a bit, taking notice of the tiny creases beginning to form in his brother’s brow.  They weren’t old enough yet for such marks of age to develop on their faces, and he rubbed his thumb between Kíli’s eyebrows gently end eyed him meaningfully. 

“What were you thinking about, just now? When you were staring outside,” Fíli asked, and Kíli’s gaze lowered as he leant into his brother’s embrace.

“You looked lost,” Fíli mentioned worriedly, his brow furrowing slightly as he watched Kíli’s expression sadden.

“Sometimes, I worry that I am alone,” the brunet admitted, and Fíli laughed in surprise but faltered when he noticed just how serious his brother was.  Kíli’s lashes fluttered slightly and he scuffed his feet on the stone ground.   

“I wonder…what if I had lost you. What if…this is a dream and you are not really here at my side.  What if…one day I wake up, only to find out you’ve been gone all along,” Kíli described, feeling the way his brother’s fingers tightened against his shoulder.  A cool gust of wind flew suddenly through the archway behind them, and Kíli shivered as the drapery wafted beside him.  Fíli immediately reached out and pulled the curtains shut tying them fast before setting his attention once again on the brunet.  He lifted his brother’s chin with a single finger and looked into his watery eyes.

“How many hearts do you hear?” Fíli asked, and Kíli raised an eyebrow at the question.

“Two,” he answered immediately, but frowned when the blond smirked wryly and shook his head.

“No, listen carefully,” Fíli requested, and he rubbed his brother’s back soothingly.  Kíli made a frustrated face but relaxed and closed his eyes, focusing on the beating sounds.  At first, it was the same as usual, his own heartbeat, and then another, beating along beside it at the same pace.  They were so similar, so in tune, and as he listened longer it became one sound instead of two.  His eyes opened quickly and he raised his head in surprise, turning to look at his brother in revelation.

“O-one,” Kíli stuttered softly, and he was met by a beaming grin. 

“Aye, one,” Fíli repeated, and he pressed a chaste kiss to the tip of Kíli’s nose. 

“I thought it two for a long time, but now I see.  It was you that made me realise.  That they always beat the same.  It is because we are joined, Kíli.  We share a heart,” the blond explained, placing a hand over his brother’s chest.

“As long as your heart beats, so too does mine.  Even if I am not beside you, I am with you. You’ve nothing to fear nadadith, not here, not anywhere,” Fíli reassured the other dwarf, and Kíli breathed in shakily and closed his eyes.  He felt the featherlike touch to his lips, the warmth his brother’s body cascaded him in, and the gentle traces against his neckline.  It was dreamlike, and if not for his brother’s words, he would have thought he had in fact fallen asleep long ago. 

“You’re not alone, you’re never alone,” Fíli whispered in his ear, and Kíli nodded happily and lunged towards the other dwarf to hug him.  The brunet’s papers scattered across the ground, surely drawing their uncle’s attention, but Kíli did not care.  Even as the mines kicked to life again, and the floor rumbled while the forges worked deep within the mountain, he took little notice of the sound.  It was his brother’s heart he heard instead, joined with his own.  Not two, never two.  Only one.  And he knew without a doubt, that he was not alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely had to put the ice water bit in after seeing the concept art for that scene.


End file.
